Love Complex
by dapixam-q
Summary: HP/DM Pre-HBP AU. Harry's been interested in Ron for years, but Ron's being an idiot about it. Draco offers to help him out. Fake relationship!cliche! WARNING: IF IT WASN'T OBVIOUS FROM THAT SUMMARY, THIS IS CRACKY AS HELL. And everybody's pretty OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**I.**

The sex started first, before everything else.

It was their second year and Seamus told Ron that he and Dean were Experimenting. Even with five older brothers, Ron didn't know what that meant and, although Harry didn't think it at the time, this said something about the Weasley family right from the start. Once Seamus explained, Ron gasped and glared and rushed away, shocked and appalled.

Ron stayed shocked and appalled, loud for three days. During this time, Harry became more and more depressed. Harry had been masturbating for a year when this happened and it was already obvious there was a select group of the world population he was thinking about. He'd been too nervous to ask anybody, but he'd been hoping that wizards were more open-minded about boys kissing than most muggles. It was obvious to him from Ron's reaction that this was not the case.

The night of the third day, Harry woke up to Ron sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed. Harry sat up and groped around for his glasses.

"'Lo, Harry," Ron said and stared at his hands in his lap.

"Ron," he said, "What are you doing?"

Ron looked up for barely a second. "Dunno."

"Well, alright, but, Ron. Ron, what are you doing in my bed?"

"Harry, d'you think about sex?"

"Course. What are you doing up? It must be three." Although Harry vaguely recognized that he must have seemed annoyed, harping on that Ron was talking to him in the middle of the night, but the truth was that he was hard and it wasn't going down and the only way to hide it was sitting with his knees up on either side of him and this position was making his bottom ache. He wanted Ron to tell him what the bloody hell was going on and go back to his own bed.

"I suppose." Ron let out a big sigh. It was only now that Harry noticed that Ron was just in a white shirt and boxers. Harry squirmed, wishing that his arse were more muscular. One would think it would be, what with all the sitting on a broom, but it wasn't. Or just rounder. Like Malfoy's.

Ron said, "Do you ever wake up thinking about sex?"

Harry gave a great blush, pink hot all the way down his neck. "_Yes_, Ron."

A bounce shot Ron across the bed, nearer to Harry. He could feel the warmth of Ron's ankle against his own, saw it as he looked down, anywhere but at Ron, little red hairs on freckled skin pulled taught against the bone. Only a thin white sheet between them. It was February, but Harry wasn't cold.

"You thinking about sex now, Harry?"

Really, he hadn't been, despite his erection, but now he was. Ron certainly was.

"What are you—"

"Dunno, Harry!" Ron moaned. "_I_ think about it. Bloody prick pops up all the time and... well, I think... yours pops up on you too, I'll bet and... Dean and Seamus are probably perfectly... they're not... it's not. You know. It's just another hand. Seeing what we like for ourselves. Don't you think, Harry?" Looking almost fishlike with wide eyes and an open mouth, a scared, mad little fish, Ron lifted his hand, shaking, and place it on Harry's knee.

"Ron—"

"You hard, Harry? I am." Harry's gaze was ripped down to below Ron's waist, and sure enough there was a tent in Ron's funny grey boxers with the blue stripes. Harry's mouth fell open as Ron's hand, the hand not squeezing at Harry's knee, came to his cock and started to rub. "You want to?"

Almost without thinking, Harry pushed off the sheet and then manoeuvred to pull his bottoms down to his ankles, then pulled his cock out. Ron reached for it and after a beat Harry sat forward to grab on to Ron's. It seemed to go in slow motion and, as his hand moved, Harry studied Ron's cock. It was shorter than his, and fatter, with one almost green vein down the side.

It felt hot in his palm and Harry felt the velvety skin like shocks in his stomach, down his arms, in his cock. It twitched, surprising Ron into squeezing it and Harry moaned, long and hoarse in his throat.

Just having someone else handle his cock was already twice as good as wanking usually was, but the feel of another cock in his hand practically doubled it again. If there was any doubt in his mind that he was as gay as super, very gay, every stroke served as confirmation.

He looked at Ron's face, hoping to catch his gaze, but his eyes were squeezed shut. Harry shut his eyes too. Back and forth, back and forth at different paces until they started to morph into one, moving together, faster and faster. It already took him only about five minutes to come as it was, but with Ron's help he felt that tightening in his balls all too soon. "Ron—"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Yeah. Me too."

"Fuck," he groaned out as the first spurt came. Then again, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. Ron!"

He opened his eyes to see Ron nodding violently. "Yes, Harry. Harry. Harry!" His voice broke at the end which made one more desperate, watery shot of come gush out of Harry's cock, this one flying all the way to land on Ron's ankle.

They sat there for a good while, their breath returning to normal, their bodies relaxing. Finally Ron opened his eyes and looked around. When their gazes met, they smiled at one another, but Ron's broke away, honing in on that last bit of Harry's come, cooling on his ankle. "Gross," he muttered and wiped it away, then grabbed his wand and flicked it with a cleaning spell.

Harry scratched at his thigh, that funny itch like dry skin from bad soap coming on where the spell took affect. "So," he said.

"Yeah," said Ron. "That was good, yeah? Better than alone."

"Yeah. Oh yeah."

"Great." Ron tucked his cock back into his trousers and hoped off Harry's bed. "G'night!" The bed curtains shut against his grinning face.

The next morning, Ron was talking to Seamus again, but it was obvious that now Seamus was not talking to Ron. As Harry walked into the toilet he heard Ron say, "Pass the—oh, blimey, Seamus! I'm sorry, all right? I was wrong to—"

Seamus shot a look at Harry. "Obviously," he said and shoved Harry out of the way of the door. Well, perhaps they hadn't been quiet the night before. Still, Harry really didn't understand why Seamus was _this _upset or why, for some time more Dean and Neville as well seemed quite peeved with them both.

//

They went on with regular hand jobs all the way through second year. It wasn't until that summer that Harry really understood that there was anything else to do.

It was still June. Aunt and Uncle were out of the house doing last minute shopping for ickle Dudleykins thirteen birthday and Dudley had Piers and Malcolm over. Passing by Dudley's room twice to get to the toilet, Harry'd noticed they were on the computer, but it wasn't until his third – this was a fine, drizzling day for tea – that he noticed how especially pink-toned the computer screen was and he actually stopped to look. Harry blinked. Yes, that was a blonde pair of naked breasts and a mouth... wrapped around a bloody enormous black cock. Harry gasped and then utterly ran for the loo.

People sucked on other people's cocks? An idea occurred to Harry and, sitting on the toilet, he experimentally leaned forward. No. Close, though. Perhaps with some stretching. Harry took a deep breath and listened for Dudley coming to pummel him. Nothing. Good.

Their first night back at Hogwarts, Harry crawled into Ron's bed and without prologue said, "Did you know we could—er. A girl might put her boyfriend's cock in her mouth? You know, and suck on it until he comes?"

Ron smiled. "Yeah, Harry. It's called a blowjob."

Harry felt his stomach sink instantly. If Ron had known about it and hadn't told him, this was going to be one of those things that was "too gay" for them to do together.

Sitting next to one another on the bed was too gay. Touching Ron's legs or his stomach while he wanked him was too gay. Kissing was too gay—way too gay, much to Harry's disappointment. Kissing seemed lovely and Ron had a very red mouth with a full upper lip.

But this... this blowjob thing was so entirely sexual, so sexual that the intimacy of it was almost blotched out, and Harry decided to press on.

"How about we do it then?"

"Harry—"

"Too gay? Ron... it sounds _fantastic_. Wet and... do _you_ have any prospects? Because I don't, not really. I think we'd be silly to not at least try it."

Ron was quiet for a long while, leaning back against his headboard and stroking himself through his boxers. Finally he sat up and nodded. "All right. I'll let you do it to me."

Harry was disappointed, at first. Obviously Ron had it set in his mind as a one-sided thing. But then, reminded that he was, in fact, gaygaygay, Harry realized giving a blowjob sounded really quite fantastic as well. He nodded and without speaking, Ron spread his legs and whispered a silencing charm as Harry stretched out in front of him.

Ron was wearing boxers that buttoned from the top half way down the front and Harry pulled the two sides apart and pulled out Ron's cock. It had gotten bigger over the summer, Harry noticed and, because of the long, warm train ride and the excitement of being back at school, Ron smelled more strongly of sweat, faintly of mushrooms, than he'd ever before. The smell rushed through Harry and he felt himself harden fully.

Although less so than his own – from a few brief conversations with some of the other Gryffindor boys, Harry'd deduced his cock was much more sensitive and receptive than normal – Ron's cock was still highly volatile and Harry figured that using his teeth was completely out of the question. Experimentally, Harry wrapped his lips around his teeth and then went forward, taking nearly all of Ron's cock in his mouth. Ron moaned loudly and Harry grinned, as well as he could.

That night he kept mostly with the basic, in and out motion, sucking and stopping a few times to press kisses against Ron's cock. After that – it was agreed silently and irrevocably that Harry would continue to suck Ron off, as he learned to call it, and Ron's mouth would never get within two feet of Harry's cock – Harry got more and more adventurous, trying out any new way for his mouth to interact with that area of Ron that came to mind and perfected his technique.

It went like this all the way through sixth year. Hand jobs and blow jobs late at night, Tuesdays and Thursdays like clockwork, no touching, no kissing, certainly no fucking, joking and talking again when the sun came up.

//

It was May third: the very end of their sixth year. As Harry lay back in his bed, every single muscle ached and he could feel the tension in his body so implicitly that Harry knew he was going to cry soon. His eyes stung at the inside corners and he squeezed them shut, feeling sure that every bit of his body was going to snap soon, like a guitar string wound too tight, the peg still turning. Someone would open his curtains to let him know he was going to be late for breakfast and they'd find him broken in half.

He turned over and punched his mattress, screamed into his pillow. Oh fuck. Sure, the next fight with Voldemort was upon him, but when had he become so melodramatic?

Light flowed into his bed as the curtain opened and Ron crawled in.

"'Lo, Harry," he said, smiling.

Harry felt the tear threat come back with a vengeance. Ron was fresh out of a shower after Quidditch practise and looked fresh and pink, smelled like soap and a little like baby powder. Harry'd skipped and God he _reeked. _Oh, but Ron was so beautiful.

"Ron," he said and, with absolutely no other options available to him, he turned away from Ron and curled into himself.

"Aw, Harry," Ron said and he could feel the shifts on the bed, towards Harry, back away from him. _Hold me_, he prayed. _Just this once, ignore the implications, ignore your fucking good Straight existence and wrap your arms around me. Make me feel loved. Make me feel protected. Just once, ever, in my life_.

It was stupid, too, that Harry felt quite sure that if they weren't having sex on a regular basis, Ron would do what's normal for a best friend and try and comfort him.

And maybe, if they weren't having sex, Harry wouldn't want him to so badly.

_Fucking_ experimentation.

"Ron." His voice was almost too thick to be understood and he cleared his throat. "Ron, I know it's Thursday, but I don't—" Here is voice broke and he cleared his throat again. "I don't think I'm up for it tonight."

A few grossly romantic things that Ron could say rushed through Harry's head, but of course what he really said was, "Right. Tired, anyway. Oh... buck up, mate. You know you'll get him again."

Despite the utter wrongness of those words, Harry felt his heart tighten at Ron's sweet, blind trust in his abilities. The first tear of the night slid down Harry's nose and dropped off the tip, cold against his hand below his face. "Course. Thanks. Night, Ron."

"G'night, Harry," he said and slipped out of the bed, closing the curtain behind him. The bed flooded in darkness.

Harry gripped his wand too tightly in his hand and hissed out a silencing spell. He yelled out, experimentally. No one knew, no one cared.

Yes, the sex started really early on. Harry didn't fall in love with Ron until later.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

Early in his seventh year, Harry was lying in his bed again, just as tense as he was that night at the end of sixth, although his life was entirely different.

Voldemort was gone. Defeated, dead, gone, gone, got and a year ahead of a silent schedule he'd recognized a long time ago. Still, as he resolutely kept his eyes shut and tried to relax his brain, Harry's new world felt almost too surreal to accept.

With a heavy sigh, Harry sat up and decided that a long bath and a trip to the kitchens for milk and biscuits were required tonight. He pulled on his slippers and his invisibility cloak and walked as quickly as possible to the Prefect's bathroom.

Inside, as he went to take off his cloak, he realized with a start that someone else was in the bathroom and that someone was Draco Malfoy. Very briefly he considered just leaving again, but the prospect of just trying to fall asleep again was miserable and Draco had already seen the door open and close by itself – he was now looking around the bathroom, forehead wrinkled, mouth open. Besides, there was really no reason to hide anything from Draco any more.

He pulled off the hood, snapped open the clasp and shrugged the cloak off his shoulders.

Draco's eyes widened and he grinned. "Ah. Lovely. Explains a lot."

Harry smiled back, although even after a year of being openly on the same side, it was still outrageously strange to be friendly with Draco.

"You look wrecked. Why aren't you in bed?"

Harry shook his head, with a sudden notice of the smooth, pale skin of Draco's pecs, neck, face about the bubbles. Needing something to occupy himself with, he looked down and started toeing off his slippers. "I am wrecked, but I can't sleep. Absolutely wouldn't happen."

"Sorry," Draco said. "Same for me. This has been just what, though. I could be done here in just a few minutes, Harry, if you don't mind waiting."

Like it usually did, hearing his first name said with Draco's voice went straight to his cock. "Er, thanks, Draco. But I'll just... come in, if you don't mind. The water smells lovely."

"No, I... want to get naked with me, Potter?" Harry's gaze shot up, surprised at the words themselves and the return of dear, snarky Malfoy. But Draco was grinning again, of course and, just like always, Harry couldn't help but grin back.

"Your own house-elf wouldn't _want _to get naked with you once you asked him."

"Ah," Draco said, "But house-elves aren't supposed to have fun."

Harry laughed and really quickly the guilt set in. This was why he hated spending time with Draco now. No mater how irrational it was considering they'd never declared anything, not even kissed, Harry always felt like he was betraying Ron when he and Draco were alone together. He was almost constantly aroused.

And here came the complicated part. How was he going to get in the bath without Draco noticing his erection?

"It's all right, Harry. I already know you're hard. Just strip and come in."

Not thinking, Harry nodded and went for the bottom button of his pyjama top. Then the words set in and he could feel his face slacken into that fish expression. "You—what?"

"You're gay, I'm very attractive and naked, surrounded by bubbles. Of _course_ you're hard. Your crotch is also at eye level and those are very silly pyjamas."

"Oh." The fish expression persisted. "Um. You know I'm gay?"

Draco laughed. "Oh, yeah."

Blushing all the way down his chest at being so thoroughly uncovered, Harry turned around and quickly shucked all his clothes. He was ridiculously pleased to see that all this talking had forced Big Mr. Potter to hide again.

"Oh, Potter, did I make—you don't have foreskin." Draco's expression was utterly blank, his gaze riveted on Harry's cock.

And then Draco gave a brilliant blush. His eyes widened. "What—what is this? Am I—"

"You're blushing!" Harry said and crawled into the bath. He groaned as the hot water enveloped him and watched as Draco somehow blushed even further.

"Harry," Draco said very seriously as his skin went back to its normal colour. "Yes, you destroyed the most powerful wizard in history and yes, you're a brilliant flyer and yes, you're gorgeous. But these things aren't why you're a hero. No, no... you just made me blush."

Harry giggled. "You're right. I might have all those other things"—saying this made him think of those other things and Harry blushed himself—"but my true life's victory? Just now. Fantastic."

They smiled at one another and the guilt hit Harry again. He looked away and for a good while they sat in a rather pleasant quiet, although he was completely aroused again.

Then he felt something soft against his foot. He jumped and realized that it was Draco's foot. He looked up and saw that Draco was staring at him and... yes, moving his foot up and down Harry's leg. It felt really good. Draco raised an eyebrow, a question, a proposition... Harry's cock strained up against his stomach. His every muscle was taut with wanting to jump on top of Draco and see what they could be together. But then the guilt came back and Harry pulled his leg to the side.

Draco looked down and away, disappointment written on his face like nothing Harry had ever seen there before.

"I'm sorry, Draco," he said. "You're really right on. I do find you really... really attractive, but... I'm in love with somebody else. Who... doesn't love me back, but I still can't bring myself to betray him. I'm really sorry."

"Weasley," said Draco. "Right. I knew. I just told myself maybe I was wrong."

"Are we that obvious?"

"There is no 'we' there, Potter," Draco spat out. "Weasley looks at Granger with more than he does you. _You're_ pretty obvious, though." Harry winced and Draco's expression softened again. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I said that, Harry. It was awful."

"But true. I know." Erection dead, mutilated, Harry wrapped his arms around his middle and wretchedly felt like he was going to cry _again_.

"Oh, Harry," Draco said and moved towards him, arms out, ready to—but he stopped suddenly and sat back down. Fuck. Obviously sex's roll in Harry's life was to ruin every little bit of comfort he might get. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "No. No, it's my own fault, really. We never should have started—"

"Started what?"

"Er. Ron and I... we've been"—Harry snorted—"experimenting—since second year."

"Oh. Oh, I didn't know that you... right."

"Yeah."

Harry was starting to shake with the impending tears. He felt like his skin was going to eat him alive. "Harry. Oh..." He looked up and was shocked to see that Draco looked like he was about to cry, too. "I'm sorry. I just want to—" Draco made a noise like he was being strangled. "I have to go. You don't want to cry in front of me."

This wasn't true, by now Harry'd cried in front of practically everyone else in the whole school, but it was way, way too much to try to tell him that. Draco stood up and out of the bath, gracefully threw on the green silk dressing gown hanging by and ran out of the room.

Horrified, Harry realized that he was now aroused again, having seen that brief glimpse of Draco's wet, naked body. He started sobbing into his knees.

//

When he finally calmed down, Harry drained the bath and went back to his bed. He was drained now, mind and body. With flashes of Draco's grinning face, his robe sticking to his wet backside as he rushed from the room, his cock, complete with foreskin, Harry fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He opened his eyes to Ron shaking him at the shoulder, Ron's face only a few inches above his own. Longing to kiss him spread out from his belly like poison. He rushed around the dormitory getting ready and made it downstairs with enough time to eat breakfast. As he walked into the Hall, he turned and saw Draco turning around a corner.

Without thinking, he stopped at the door to wait for Draco. Once he realized how inappropriate that was, they were stuck in a limbo, unable to move or speak or look at one another. At last they both moved at once and brushed shoulders going through the door, then dashed apart and to their tables. As he sat down, Hermione said, "That seemed especially strange with Draco at the door."

Ron looked at him, wondering and Harry shrugged, scratched his hands back through his hair. "He's a—git. I dunno."

Although he tried not to, he glanced at Draco a few times in each class they had together – Potions, Transfiguration and History and each time Draco was focused on the class. This didn't help anything... didn't mean much at all. Harry didn't know what he was looking for or what he'd expected to see.

Harry couldn't sleep again that night and thought of a bath and a snack once more came to mind. Maybe it would work better tonight. Harry grabbed the necessaries and made his way to the bath. He'd barely taken off his cloak and trainers before the door opened and Draco came in. "Bullocks," he hissed and Draco winced.

"Great minds, I suppose," Draco said.

"Yes." He felt something else caught in his throat, big and invisible.

"Try it again? I won't—er. You know. Or bring up... anything. At all. We don't have to talk."

"Yes," he said again. "Er. All right. You want to work the taps? You did quite well last time." Forcing smooth, confident motions, Harry started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yeah, I'm good at mixing things. Good for potions. And I... make perfume. Cologne. Scents. I guess I have a uncanny sense of smell."

"No kidding," Harry said. What an odd, neat thing.

"I can pick up every little note of a mixture and tell what's going to smell good on people. Dad thinks I should open a fragrance shop on Diagon Alley." Draco was stripping as he said this, and as he pulled down his trousers, Harry couldn't help staring.

At the London Library, Harry had once found a book on sexuality aimed at teens, trying and failing to be very hip. It said that there were two types of penises: growers and showers. Harry felt a thrill go through him that Draco was certainly a shower. His penis hung long, thick and heavy between his legs with an excellent round set of balls. His hair grew flat and pale blonde and Harry imagined it would be soft to touch.

He only realized how hot he was when Draco stopped talking, "alley" cutting off a little short, and stared at Harry's stomach where, he realized suddenly, the head of his cock was pressing against his bellybutton. Harry looked away from Draco's cock, but his gaze shot back as it grew another little bit and strained upward, faster than Harry had ever seen a cock harden.

It suddenly crashed on Harry that he and Draco were standing in a silent Prefect's bathroom naked with an empty tub. He had never felt more turned on, ever.

"Ah," Draco said. "Ah. I'll just mix the water, shall I?"

He rushed up to the taps and started one that let out a bubbly, peachy colour that filled the room with grapefruit, another soft green that added something minty and fresh, another thick, brown that looked and quickly smelled like chocolate. A few more followed that Harry couldn't recognize, then some bubbles and some foam and he was left surrounded by a delicious, woody scent.

"Fantastic," he said. "Just. You're really very good. You should open that shop. Lucius wouldn't mind his dear, aristocratic son _working_?"

Draco smirked, stepping into the bath. "Oh no, surely, it's the most vile, the most infamous of all occupations. But it would make me happy and he knows that. He took my coming out with barely a question, as well."

"Really?" Harry said and then moaned, sinking down into the hot water. "But wizards have such a problem with gays."

At this, Draco laughed, loud and fast. "We do? No, Harry, muggles do. It seems that some muggles will have a problem with every other kind of muggle. Most wizards don't even think about it. Attracted to men, attracted to breasts... it's generally accepted that wizards are actually predisposed to bisexuality."

Harry felt a little nauseas. "But... Ron..."

Draco nodded. "The Weasleys are some of the few major bigots in that regard, Dad says. Bad blood way back when, I expect. Oh, er. No pun intended, etcetera." Instant, violent defence of the Weasleys rose up in him, but it was undeniable that Draco was right. "Oh, you look like I kicked your owl. I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't talk about this."

"No, you—well, thanks, I guess." Harry closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the water. The words passed between them were only making him feel more tense, but the water still did help with his fiercely aching back, neck and shoulders.

"Er. You seem... are you very sore, then?" Draco said.

Harry nodded. "My back aches constantly. Has since second or third year."

"Turn around." The water sloshed as Draco stood up and walked through it towards Harry. His eyes were drawn to Draco's bellybutton, the bubbles moving up and into it and out again. His cock hardened fully again.

"What?" he said, but stood and turned just the same. He saw Draco's arm reach to the side of the tub and grab a glass vial of fluffy white cream. He heard a pop of the cork coming off, Draco set the vial down again and then Draco's warm hands came around his neck, the longest fingers meeting against Harry's chest.

Draco moved his hands lightly all around Harry's neck, then across his shoulders and down his back, spreading the lotion all over his skin. "I'm going to give you a little shoulder rub." Draco's voice was low and his breath was hot against his ear. Harry shivered.

Then Draco's fingers began to press into Harry's skin and muscles, expertly aiming at the tight spots and making Harry go limp and brainless against the side of the tub. Draco's left arm came around Harry's front to hold him up as his right went to work. "Oh, Harry, your back is bloody _destroyed_ with knots."

"Oh," Harry said. "Oh, but you—" he hissed as Draco found a particularly sore spot. "You're making it all better. All... mmm."

He was completely unaware of the time passing, but he realized later that Draco massaged his back for almost two hours. He finished working out a knot right above Harry's arse and then ran his hand up his back, admiring his finished work. Harry felt the press of lips against his neck and then felt Draco straighten roughly. "Sorry."

Harry slipped from Draco's arms and fell bonelessly against the bath. He felt absolutely _glorious_. "Oh... it's... you're _so_." He smiled and opened his eyes towards Draco, sitting down next to him. "You apologize a lot, you know. I thought a Malfoy never apologized."

Draco smiled, his face damp and glowing. "Why?"

"Dunno. Just seemed appropriate, I guess." Draco was rubbing his hands and Harry noticed that they were incredibly red. "Oh god, Draco! I can't believe I haven't thanked you. Thank you. I haven't felt this good... I've never felt this good."

Draco's smile reappeared, but very quickly his slivery eyes darkened. "You have no idea how good I—never mind." But Harry understood and Harry realized suddenly that he was already incredibly hard. "Er, no problem, by the way. Glad I could do it. No one should live with that much pain."

Harry looked away, trying to get his erection under control. Even after seven years of inappropriate arousal, Harry still didn't know what to do to get his cock to go down. Cold water usually did it, but if he didn't have access to that, there was nothing. Apparently there was no thought gross enough—even McGonagall with all her wrinkles and boobs and yellow teeth had her own kinky appeal when he was up for it.

Finally, at least he felt calm and he looked back to Draco. He was sitting up very straight, his expression serene, his skin all wet and pale. He looked regal and this forced a connection in his head. "So," he said, "what's it like being Head Boy?"

"I was so sure you were going to be Head Boy. So sure."

"Why? I didn't even think of it."

"You saved the world, Harry. Seemed like that would give you a little extra credit. But it's... boring, really. A lot of bloody responsibility and almost no reward. I've got my own room, but honestly that just makes me feel even more—er, I was expecting a high from the control, like when I first became a prefect, but I guess it's too similar. Granger like being Head Girl?"

"Of course. She sent me an owl, all tear-stained when she got notice. Ron—" Ron. He hadn't thought of Ron for... he'd lost track of time. Oh god. Absolute shame filled him and he dropped his face into his hands.

"Mm-hmm," Draco said. "Lost you again, haven't I?"

"Bullocks, I'm sorry," he said. "I get guilty when I have to much fun with _Neville_. And you..."

Draco stood up and stretched, his back popping. "Well, I think I'll get to sleep easily enough, anyway. Nice bath. Want to have an illicit fly with me tomorrow night? Slytherin practised tonight, but I'm already aching for another good struggle with a snitch."

Harry wanted to fly with Draco when he thought about it later, but right at that moment he said, "Yes, yes. Great!" to seem very focused and interested in their conversation and not in the fluffy white towel moving up and down and all around Draco's creamy smooth body.

"Great," Draco said. "See you then." He pulled on the green silk and sashayed out of the bath.

Harry looked down and saw the tip of his cock sticking out of the water. He shivered. Well, that was a little strange. Getting more turned on by the sight of one's own cock. Just the same, Harry grabbed a hold and jerked off into the water, thinking about Draco's hands moving lower down his back during the massage, spreading his cheeks and running his cock along his arse. He left for the kitchens feeling guilty again, but smiling.

//

A huge black and white owl spotted brought him a note during breakfast. It nearly landed on top of toast and apricot jam, but Harry just caught it in time. It was smooth, buttery paper in green ink, from Malfoy. Malfoy had a very delicate, loopy script.

_Harry,_ he read.

_If you don't want to fly tonight, I won't be hurt if you cancel. If you __do__ want to practise, however, meet me at the Room of Requirement at 10. Did you know a need for flying produces a spectacular pitch on a summery warm day? _

_Draco M._

Harry looked up at the Slytherin table, where Draco was grinning at Millicent Bulstrode, his fork between his teeth. Almost instantly, Draco turned and looked at Harry, his expression blank and expectant and he smiled when Harry nodded.

That night, Harry crawled into bed with his History book with a plan to read until a little before ten o'clock. He was just about to check his watch again when Ron stuck his head in. "Hey," Ron said. "Long day, eh? So glad we have practise tomorrow." Harry filled in the blanks himself: _I'm so tense. Wish there was something I could do to get rid of the tension! Get some release!_

Harry smiled and opened his mouth to ask him in, when he remembered Draco. It would be _so_ rude to just leave him alone downstairs. Really very, very mean. He sighed and reached his hand out to Ron's arm. "Ron—"

"Whoa," said Ron, jerking away. "What? Trying to let me down easy, Harry? Trying to let your little boyfriend down easy? No. No! _You're_ the fucking little—" Ron was incredibly red in the face and he sneered at Harry, right as he loudly got into his own bed.

He was the what? Harry wondered. The pansy? The faggot? The poofter? _Fuck_. It might have only been nine-thirty still – the 1840s in wizarding Britain were incredibly boring – but Harry got up out of bed anyway, shoved on his wrist, shin and knee guards, Quidditch shoes and his cloak and grabbed his broom.

He was reminded as he walked of Draco informing him that wizards weren't generally homophobic. That his constant worry that he was gay and if he was gay he would be horribly rejected by everyone he cared about – the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, Dumbledore, Hagrid – was all for nothing. He felt a rush of relief, deep down to his centre, to his heart and then, reminded of Ron, a rush of hot anger. No, he'd not be rejected by everyone. Just by Ron. Over and over again.

He made enough noise as he made his way to the Room of Requirement that he was surprised someone didn't catch him, but he arrived there without incident. He was early perhaps, because Draco wasn't there yet, so he started up passing the time by walking up the wall, kicking it as he went, and walking back down.

With no concept of how long he'd been, Harry stopped with a hand against his shoulder. His toes were sore. He pulled off the hood and turned around. Draco was grinning. "Finally. You have a very hard shoulder to grab. Evasive."

This reminded him strongly of Ron. At that moment, maybe hermit crabs would have reminded him strongly of Ron, but that really didn't matter. He felt a renewed rush of anger, but just as quickly all the anger drained out of him and Harry felt his face crumble, cold tears dripping off his chin before he knew he was sad.

"No," Draco whispered and then his warm hands were on Harry's face, wiping off the tears. "What's he done?"

Harry was a good few inches taller than Draco, but Harry's body fit in Draco's arms just perfectly. "He came on to me, but I had to meet you, so I try to tell him, but he just rips away from me and says we aren't boyfriends and practically called me a faggot." Harry pulled his head off Draco's chest and looked at him. "I _know _we aren't boyfriends. _Why_ aren't we boyfriends?"

Draco looked up and down the hall quickly and then pulled Harry through a door a few doors down and across from the Room of Requirement. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco's hand reach and pull a white sheet off a couch and then they both sat down. Harry virtually crawled into Draco's lap and let himself be pet and cooed to until he stopped crying. He sat up on his own and Draco reached into his pocket, handed him a handkerchief.

But Draco wasn't looking at him. Harry glanced at where Draco's gaze was focused, but there was only a big, round empty basket in that direction. Draco was much more likely lost in thought. Harry blew his nose. The handkerchief smelled like caramel corn.

Suddenly Draco looked at him and said, "I've thought of something. I don't know... I don't know. But it might do something. So I'll tell you. Perhaps we could fool around. Be very obvious so Ron knows, but as if we're trying desperately to keep it secret: hide in corners Ron's sure to pass. It's certain to make Ron _horribly_ jealous. With enough of a push, enough of a threat of losing you, I'm sure he'll give in."

Draco's plan was logical. At least, _if_ Ron had feelings for him, seeing him with Draco Malfoy was just the thing to put him over the edge and make him try to get Harry for himself. It also meant that he and Draco would have to fool around. This meant rubbing. With Draco. Harry liked that.

"So we pretend to be having a thing. In secret. But really loudly."

"Exactly. Everyone will think they have one up on us... all this gorgeous gossip and Weasley will go mad."

"You really think it'll work?"

Draco's eyes were sharp and clear and he said, "Harry. I can absolutely assure you that anyone in love with you... anyone who wants you would find themselves completely obsessed if they couldn't have you. Would do anything to be with you. Any little bit of you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Anything, Harry," he said, then smiled and changed positions on the couch, breaking the dark, heavy mood that momentarily took over the room. "After all, you're The Boy Who Lived. You deserve a little reward for all those knots in your back. I might as well help you get it."

"Oh, god, thank you again for that. I've felt amazing, relaxed all day. So... okay. Let's do it. Let's make Ron jealous until he crumbles to his knees and finally sucks me off. _And_ holds my hand the next day."

"Weasley's never given you a blowjob?"

"No. Too gay."

"Too... I can't... he's an idiot. I do hope I haven't overestimated his ability to put two and two together and then do something with four. To four. About four."

Even though it was at Ron's expense, Harry thought it was sweet that Draco thought so much of him. Harry ran two fingers down his hand and smiled coyly. "You have such thoughtful metaphors... Draco."

Draco smirked, turned his hand palm-up and twined their fingers together. Even as they joked around, Harry's cock got hard again, the feeling of Draco's hand through the openings in his wrist guard incredibly arousing. "Only when I'm around you, Harry. Only for you."

At the notice of his wrist guards, Harry remembered they'd planned to play some Quidditch. "Hey, Draco, do you still want to play?"

Draco nodded and stood up. "Yes. I need to keep you out late tonight and then you need to make a lot of noise and giggle when you get back to your dormitory. Wake Ron up and let him know you've been having a good time."

Not thinking, Harry stood up and kissed Draco on the cheek. "I chose such a brilliant guy to have a fake secret affair with." Draco was silent, then gave a too-loud laugh. Harry blushed. "Er. Sorry."

Inside the Room of Requirement, the Quidditch Pitch was as huge and gorgeous as described. The sky was blue and cloudless, the wind with just a little bite. It even came complete with thousands of fans, there for ecstatic screaming whenever he or Draco made a good move. Flying with Draco was exhilarating, better than trying to catch the snitch with his entire house watching, depending on him, just _assuming_ he'll get them that much closer to the house cup.

Finally, one of them was within seconds of catching the snitch. Harry was flying at the stalled golden ball from one direction, Draco from the other. Their hands were nearly touching as they both grabbed, but the ball had dropped down. Harry instantly went for the first move that came to mind and he felt himself slipping off his broom as his hands closed around cold metal. A few seconds later, he felt arms come around him and he was sitting in Draco's lap.

The fans gasped. Harry wondered how the Room knew to create a group so aware of their rivalry. Draco grinned and said, "We both won, Harry. You get the snitch, but I get you!"

Harry giggled. "If we can at all manage this exact scenario at the Gryffindor-Slytherin game... Yeah, let's."


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

Draco told Harry that in order for Ron to conveniently catch them in their amorous pursuits, Harry would have to make sure he knew Ron's every move. They wouldn't use every opportunity, but they needed to know every opportunity, so they could pick the best ones. Harry figured that Draco knew what he was talking about.

He'd certainly been right about being a loud, giggly mess when he arrived back at the dormitory the night before. Neville, Seamus and Dean all grinned and jostled him that morning and asked him what he'd been doing the night before. Harry said "You _guys_!" a few times and blushed and sent guilty looks Ron's way. Ron ripped the shower curtain off two rings and hurled a bar of soap across the room before he stomped away. Harry was incredibly pleased.

An unexpected chance came during potions. Harry was sitting with Ron in the back of the room as usual; Ron wasn't talking to him and Draco was sending him looks from his seat in the front. Snape came into the room, slammed the door behind him and rushed to the front. He seemed to be in an especially bad mood. "You will be working in groups of two today. These will be the same groups of two assigned on Monday. Together, these partners will brew the potion detailed on page three-hundred-and-twelve of the text. I will get a special thrill today, I think, taking away house points, so it would be in your best interest to use your brains as much as possible. Go!" It seemed that this was all Snape hoped to say today.

"You're with Malfoy, then?" Ron said.

Harry grinned said, "Yeah," and walked to Draco's desk without another word.

Draco's hand came out to brush Harry's as he sat down next to him. Behind them sat Blaise Zabini and Su Li – Blaise raised an eyebrow, Su Li sent the fish expression at their hands and then focused blankly on her wand, in front of her. Harry laughed and then laughed again as Draco said, "Weasley looks like a tomato." Draco opened his book and started looking over the potion. "This was a very sweet thing of Severus to do."

"You asked him to do this?" Harry said, too loudly. Snape aimed a quill like a dart and threw it very hard at Harry's head. Draco reached out and caught it between two fingers without looking up from the book.

"No, no. But it's still convenient. I don't know that Severus ever means to be nice or helpful, but it happens sometimes anyway."

"Why do you call him Severus, then?" Harry said, leaning his head against his arm and watching Draco work. He was really quite stunning when he was concentrated on something. "Is he your godfather?"

"No. He and Mum hate each other, it seems. Parsley. What? _Parsley._ Do you have any parsley? Ah... oh, he's got a thing for my dad, though, and pops around the Manor all the time. He'd like it if I called him 'uncle.'"

"I don't have any parsley. Parsley? Oh, that is strange, isn't it." Harry stood up to find some parsley, then remembered the last of Draco's words and sat back down. "For your—dad? Snape's queer?"

"He's not really having sex at all, is he? Rabbit's—brain. Eh. Don't have that either. Oh, this is very off the syllabus. Severus has his panties in a twist today. Go ask for parsley and the brain and... oh, a bluestone."

Harry did, somehow with a straight face. Snape left and came back with two glass jars and a small, round grey rock. As he took the objects, Snape made a face like there was a bad smell which Harry recognized as his wishing there was a reason to take house points away.

Draco said as Harry sat back down, "Anyway, I think he's more ambitiosexual."

"What?"

"No, I just made it up. Ambitio. Desire for power. Like "ambitious." Didn't you ever take Latin?"

"Er. No."

"None at all? I'm fluent, but that's really rare. I thought everybody had taken a little." Harry shook his head. "God, spells must be twice as hard for you. You probably can't guess at any, can you?" Harry shook his head again. You could guess? He supposed that made sense... almost all spell roots were Latin. Put some meaning together and maybe you'd even invent something.

"I'll teach you," Draco declared. "We'll need _something _to do while everyone thinks we're off shagging."

Harry felt a burst of excitement, then a burst of disappointment right after. Oh dear. Oh fuck. When had he got it in his head that they really would be shagging? Yeah, he was attracted to Draco and yeah, Draco was turning out to be a really excellent person, but... This was all for Ron. Harry glanced back at him and felt the usual warmth rush through him. Yes, dear Ron.

At the sound of Draco opening a jar, Harry turned back to him. It was the brain jar and he was shaking it upside down on top of his cutting board. Apparently it was stuck. Draco yelped when it finally plopped out and jumped, brushing their arms together. Draco's skin really outrageously soft. Harry smiled.

//

Hermione was helping Ron with charms homework in the library tonight. A perfect time, Harry thought and Draco agreed, to get caught kissing in the stacks. They agreed to meet outside the door at nine-thirty.

As Harry approached the library, Draco was just coming out. He smiled as their gazes caught. "What were you doing?" Harry asked.

"Just checking where Porthos and Aramis are having their tête-à-tête."

Harry searched his brain for where the names had come from. "You've read _The Three Musketeers_?"

"No, I watched the film."

"You've seen a film?"

"Of course I haven't, Harry. It was a joke. That's a cliché of muggles, isn't it? 'Seen the movie.'"

"Well, yeah, it—how—er, so you have read the book?"

"Yes. Dumas' slave grandmother was a witch, and so was his illegitimate son. A vague relation of Blaise's. Rather nice books, anyway." As Draco said this, Harry took a moment to look him over. He was dressed out of uniform for the first time this year in very fitting black slacks and a grey turtleneck sweater. Harry noticed that Draco's wearing a muted colour grey made the grey of his eyes shine and his skin glow.

"Well," said Harry. "Where are Ron and Hermione? And why am I Athos? Does that make you D'Artagnan?"

"They're in the back. Perfect placement for us, anyway. And of course I'm D'Artagnan. We should go in." Draco turned back into the library without another word and Harry followed him to nearly the back of the room and then in between two bookcases. "They're behind this," Draco said and then took Harry by the waist and pressed him in between Draco's body and a bookcase.

"What—" he whispered. Draco spread Harry's legs with his knee and situated himself against Harry. He swallowed. "They're not going to leave for another twenty minutes, at least."

"This is going to spread like wildfire. Can't have someone pass by and say tomorrow, 'Oh yeah, I saw them. They were having a little chat,' can we?"

Draco's cock was hard and pressed up against Harry's. He attempted a deep breath that shattered in his chest. With a sudden burst of realization that a response might be required to whatever Draco had just said, Harry shook his head. Draco smiled and slowly, his face moved forward, closer to Harry's. He could feel Draco's breath, stronger and stronger. He smelled like plums.

Draco pressed the lightest kiss to his temple and whispered, "Have you been practising?"

It took a few seconds before he could speak. "What?" he gasped and felt his hips shoot forward to rub against Draco.

A little whimper from Draco and Harry felt his knees melt. "Latin," Draco hissed and licked Harry's jaw line.

"Oooh." Harry gasped again. Latin. Numbers. Yes. "Yes." Then Draco's mouth was right on top of his, barely a centimetre between them. With every heavy breath, he could feel Draco's upper lip brush against his bottom. He felt himself starting the shake with keeping his neck in place.

"Good," Draco said and then finally, _finally_ kissed him, without warning. His lips were hot, his tongue like velvet and wet. _Wet_. He pulled back. "One."

Harry caught Draco's mouth again and wrapped his arms around his neck. The little hairs there were so soft. "Unus."

Draco nodded, pressed open-mouthed kisses down Harry's throat. Harry gripped his shoulders. "Two," he said and lightly, lightly kissed the hallow of his neck.

"Two," Harry whispered, tried desperately to focus, despite the softness of Draco, the feeling of being warm in the snow, smelling fresh air, happy, beautiful. "Duo."

Draco's fingers brushed against Harry's sides, feather light yet leaving a trail of prickling fire. "Very good." Harry ached, Harry _needed_ and pressed against anything, blinding looking for Draco's mouth. "Three," Draco hissed and his mouth was back. Harry squeezed Draco to him and moved himself against Draco's leg.

"Tres!" he yelped. "Four is quartuor. Five is—" Draco's cock starting rubbing against his leg and Harry moaned against his mouth. "Quinque."

Draco nodded, pressing his face into Harry's neck. "Six."

Harry couldn't think. He could barely breathe. The answer came to him in a rush as he came in his pants, straining against Draco. "Sex," he said, the word long, groaned out.

There was a burst of wet heat against his leg and he knew Draco had come, too. With this, Harry's poor cock made a valiant attempt to harden again. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry," Harry heard Draco whispering as the rushing sound in his ears softened and his cock tried again, this time with much more success. Amazing.

He felt Draco smile against his neck. "Sex is right." Harry laughed and kissed Draco. A flash of red made him pull away and he turned to see Ron and Hermione standing in full fish expression, a quill and inkwell spilling onto the wood floor.

Draco said some sort of spell with a flick of his wand and the ink swirled back into the well, the well moving upright again. He bent and picked it up and gave it to Hermione. "So sorry for the shock," he said.

Harry was almost certainly blushing, but his nerves were still too raw to be sure. "We were looking for a book on potions!" he said.

"Were you?" Hermione said. "In the biography section, Harry?"

"Rather," Draco said. "a biography of the great potions master, Edward Kidd." Somehow without looking at the bookshelf, just smirking at Hermione at Ron, Draco pulled out a biography on Edward Kidd. "And here it's been, Harry, all this time."

Ron's face finally went back to normal and he gave the most furious glare Harry had ever seen from him. "That doesn't bloody help, does it Harry? You bloody fucking wanker." He rushed off.

Hermione squeezed her books to her chest and looked desperately from Harry to the door out of the library, her hair flying around her head like mad seaweed. "You will explain _at length_, Harry," she said. Her eyes went to Harry's crotch and she turned bright red. "Later. Of course. Much later. Such as tomorrow, after a nice shower." And she rushed off too.

Draco smiled. "There now. Step one, check."

//

Ron's efforts of not speaking to him were doubled the next morning. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and demanded answers from Harry from the moment he entered the common room. "How long, Harry? And why keep it from us? Why Draco? Oh what is _wrong_ with you, Ronald? What's wrong with him, Harry? I wish he'd told us, too, but—oh, Harry! Why did you keep it from us!"

Harry'd been prepared for this and decided it was best to look guilt-ridden but dreamy. Ginny asked him if he was going to sneeze.

"Keep what from you, then?" Seamus said.

"Nothing!" Harry said. Ron impaled a sausage with his fork and took a furious bite out of it. Seamus smirked and went back to talking to Dean.

Why, though? Harry thought, for the first time. It was a good question, now. Eight months ago, there surely would have been a reason, their animosity with Draco at its height. But then, eight months ago this never would have happened. Why would he and Draco be keeping this a secret from everybody? A reason finally occurred to him and he said, softly, "Because of _this_, Hermione. He's not exactly the most orthodox partner for me and we wanted to do... whatever... without a lot of questions and _interest_."

"I wouldn't have told anybody!" Hermione said. "When did you first take interest?"

"Told anybody what?" Lavender Brown called, six people to Harry's right. "Interest in what, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who blushed, and glanced at Draco. Draco was laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach. Oh, and Draco had parted his hair to the left. _That_ was nice.

Ron's fork launched out of his fingers and landed, quite stridently, in Neville's goblet of orange juice. Ron muttered something that sounded like, "Tory, Pebble," and took heavy steps out of the Hall.

"What _is wrong_ with him?" Hermione said.

"Want my orange juice, Nev?" Harry said, smiling. "I'm quite full."

//

The next Tuesday, Ron appeared beside Harry's bed at nine o'clock, his face stony and his mouth open to speak. Before any sound came out, however, Ron's eyes caught on Harry's bare chest and roamed. Harry leaned back against his pillows. Ron's expression went slack. "Ah." He cleared his throat. "I hope... you weren't expecting us to..."

"Expecting us..."

The sound of Harry's voice seemed to bring Ron's focus back. "I hope you weren't expecting us to do anything tonight. Or ever again."

Ron's words hit Harry like a kick to his chest, but he and Draco had talked about it and he'd expected this, that it was a part of the natural progression of Ron's admission of his own feelings. He managed a smile. "I wasn't. I have plans tonight."

"With Malfoy?"

Harry forced a panicked look on his face and looked around the room. When he saw there was no one else in the room he nodded, "With Draco."

Ron's lip curled up. "Perfect," he said and then made to rush away, but turned right back. "You—" Ron shook his head and then stomped out the door.

Harry pulled on a tee-shirt and left the dormitory himself. They always met in the out-of-use room three down and across from the Room of Requirement now. It was hard to tell whether this room had been intended to be faculty's quarters or a classroom or maybe just storage, but it had been used for some time as a place to throw junk. Around the room there were stacks of books, big gold frames, trunks, a basket, a carpet bag, a copper saucepan, a colossal old map of Britain. Covered in sheets, there were three mismatched sofas and one big chair. He and Draco had fixed it up a little, positioning the furniture around itself and bringing in candles. It was very comfortable and Harry was always happy to go there.

Except possibly the professors (one never knew with them) the entire school now knew about their "secret" and about the room and that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy went There to be Alone. Most students seemed to think that Harry and Draco didn't know that the rest of the school knew and it was normal now that a group would approach Harry and one would say something like, "How's _Draco_, Harry?" and the anyone in the vicinity would giggle madly and skip away. It was _fantastic_.

A few times, a student hid in their room before they got there, quite obvious in the corner because there really wasn't much in there large enough to cover a full-grown body. Mostly Harry and Draco spent there late-night meetings talking, but when there was someone watching, there was nothing to do but make-out and rub against each other.

Not that Harry minded much.

In fact, he really didn't mind at all and this worried him, sometimes. That he was dating Draco so he could date Ron was becoming more and more confusing, his intentions more and more ambiguous. But mostly he didn't think about it. He was having a really good time his last year at Hogwarts and in the far off pink horizon was he and Ron, working as Aurors together at the Ministry, living as partners together in a little flat, a cat, their own kettle and his back washed for him.

Harry walked into their room and saw Draco lounged out on a couch. He was wearing black socks, perhaps the best-fitting pair of jeans Harry had ever seen on anybody – god, he did have fine legs – a light blue shirt, lovingly snug at Draco's pecs, his skin radiant and his hair damp against his face. He went to the couch and crouched down beside Draco, kissing him on the lips

"Mmm," Draco hummed and curled his hand around Harry's head, deepening the kiss. His mouth tasted like vanilla and mint and Harry felt arousal thicken his blood and spread through his body like honey. He crawled on top of Draco, matching their bodies, knees, cocks and stomachs and pulled away, rubbing his nose with Draco's.

Yes, it was times like this that sent sparks of worry of him. There had been no stopping doing any of that – sometimes kissing Draco was as intrinsic as breathing.

"Slytherin had the _best_ practise tonight," Draco said. "I feel amazing."

"You look amazing."

"You look amazing." Draco stroked Harry's temple. "I wish you'd let me take you shopping, though. You're an adult, now and it's silly to be wearing your fat cousin's hand-me-downs."

Harry straddled himself on Draco's waist and sat up, pulling at his shirt. "Do I really look that bad?"

Draco pulled him back down and kissed him. "You look amazing, Harry. But some proper clothing could make you simply stunning. And, of course, I want everyone to be especially jealous of me for my gorgeous secret lover. Not that they're not already. Blaise told me today – oh! Did you notice Weasley in Potions today? He nearly fell off his chair."

Harry hadn't—perhaps this was an indication of something... No. Except that he was learning to focus during lessons. Good for him, really.

"I'm afraid the choice to go shopping will soon be taken out of your hands, Harry," Draco said. "The moment you meet my mum, she'll sweep you off to Oxford Street."

"And I'll be... meeting your parents... soon?" Harry said. This idea struck panic in Harry, hot all through his body. Sure, he and Lucius Malfoy had been able to work together congenially at the end of the war, but it had been apparent the entire time that he didn't like Harry very much and in regard to Narcissa... the three times Harry had ever seen the supernaturally beautiful woman, he'd been too nervy to speak. Draco had a formidable family and Harry couldn't imagine that they'd like him very much at all.

Draco instantly looked away and bit his lip, something he did when he was nervous, Harry'd noticed. This was so adorable, Harry felt all the tension leave his body. No matter his parents reactions, Harry felt secure with Draco. He laid his head against Draco's chest.

"Er." Draco said, playing with the hair at the nape of Harry's neck. "I thought... I thought you might take Christmas holidays with me. If you wanted. Um... _I_,I'd like you to."

It hadn't occurred to Harry to do anything but go to the Burrow over Christmas, but thinking about it now Harry realized that it would be a horrible two weeks with the state of his and Ron's relationship. There was over a month until the end of first term, but Harry somehow doubted Ron's stubbornness would have let up by then. Perhaps Christmas with Draco would be an excellent time... certainly better than staying at Hogwarts, anyway.

"Well," he said. "I usually go to the Burrow—that's where the Weasleys live—and if Ron's said he wants to be with me by then, I'd still like to, but I doubt he will so—"

"_Harry_," Draco said. "It's all right. You needn't bother with all this. If you don't want to—"

Yes, Draco was angry. Harry lifted his head again and looked at him, cupping his hands around Draco's head. "I _do_ want to, Draco. I know we'll have a great time. Thank you for inviting me. I'd love to spend Christmas with you. I'm sorry—"

"No, no." Draco grinned and gave him a quick kiss. "Of course you'd want to spend Christmas with the boy you love if you could. Sorry."

Erections usually occurred without Harry noticing and it was no different tonight. With the lag in conversation that followed, Harry suddenly realized both he and Draco were completely aroused. It had happened a good few times before, but still the feeling of another hard cock against his made Harry dizzy. He rubbed his cock against Draco's and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Draco was looking at him and their gazes caught.

"You're hard, Harry," Draco said. Harry nodded. Draco's hand gripped Harry's waist on either side. "You—you haven't had a blowjob?"

"No," Harry said. "Never." Draco choked on a moan.

"But you've done it. Given a blowjob."

"Tons. I—" Draco cut him off.

"Harry. Harry, let me give you a blowjob. Let me... taste you. Please, Harry."

"Yes," he hissed and sat up, still humping forward, and started unbuttoning his trousers. "You too. Take off your jeans."

Harry let Draco up from under him. Draco's hands went for the top of his jeans, pulling up his shirt and, with a glimpse of pale skin, Harry realized he _really_ wanted to strip Draco himself. So he did, pouncing on him and slowly pealing Draco's jeans apart and down his legs, taking off his shirt and grazing his fingers up Draco's sides.

Then Draco's hands were on his back, down, below the waistband of his boxers, cupping his arse. Harry shivered. Then they were kissing and they were naked, although Harry couldn't really remember how it happened and Draco's hand was on his cock and he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Somehow they moved into the sixty-nine position on the couch, this time with Harry on the bottom. Oh, Draco had a beautiful cock. He reached around to press Draco's arse forward when suddenly his own cock was engulfed in warm and wet and soft and he screamed out. It took a few seconds to get his brain functioning enough to remember that that gorgeous cock was still right there and he took the head in his mouth.

Oh fuck, Harry loved the taste of Draco's pre-cum. This was the last real thought he had until he came, completely lost in sensation, hot and prickling up and down his body. Just little pieces of thoughts: yes, more, sweet, hot, _yes_, perfect, Draco, Draco, right, Draco, for _so long_, forever, want Draco, _yes_.

As his breathing returned to normal, Harry kissed Draco's stomach, his smooth thighs. Being able to touch his lover, kiss him where he wanted to, and be touched back... it felt ridiculously good. Harry couldn't remember ever feeling so warm and happy. That familiar guilt went through him, but he pushed it away: he could only imagine how good it would be with Ron, of course, etcetera.

Draco sat up and Harry sat up with him and they moved into another position together, holding each other on the couch.

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

Draco moved forward and licked the corner of Harry's mouth, a dollop of his own come on his tongue. So hot. Harry kissed him and they laughed as they parted. "You're welcome," Draco said.

//

The plan was to study in the library with Hermione but Hermione wasn't doing anything. Well. She was staring at her open Arithmancy book, perhaps even at one word in the book, but she certainly wasn't studying and this was becoming increasingly distracting for Harry. He'd agreed to study with her because he'd realized that he hadn't been spending much time with her the past few weeks and he missed her, but if they weren't even going to have _fun_ not doing their work, he might as well go hear about Draco's day and fool around a bit.

He made one more attempt to read about transfiguring inanimate objects into edible food, but out of the corner of his eye, there was Hermione, not moving, not even blinking. "Hermione, what—"

Hermione cut him off, voice too fast and too loud. "I didn't tell anyone, so you really shouldn't blame me."

Ah. He knew he should have felt bad that his thing with Draco was having adverse affects on his friends, but it was really just very funny. Harry coughed and covered his mouth to hide a smile. "Blame you for what?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh."

"Didn't tell anyone what, Hermione?"

She rapped her fingers against the table and found that word to stare at again. "You and Draco."

"What?" he said. Harry was a crap actor so he was surprised that his voice came out sounding realistically confused and worried. "Didn't tell anyone? Does anyone know? Oh no! Who knows, Hermione? Is it a lot of people?"

"Oh," she said, glancing up at him and back down at her book, rapid fire. "No. Um. Not _so_ many—anyway. You don't blame me, then? Er, for anything?"

Harry smiled and patted her hand. "Of course not."

She slumped forward and let out a long breath. "Oh, good. You've been spending so much time with Draco, I didn't know if you were avoiding me or just... busy. Um. Distracted, is what I mean. Preoccupied. You know. Right." She threw her shoulders back and looked back to her book, ready to start reading for real. She quickly looked back at him, though. "So, d'you blame Ron, then? Is that why you've both been so angry quiet?"

Harry sighed and scratched his hands through his hair. "No, no. I don't blame Ron for anything."

"No, I didn't really think that was it, anyway. He's been saying some of the most awful things. I had no idea the Weasleys were so... homophobic. Oh, wizards aren't, you know, Harry. In general." Hermione gasped and stretched across the table, grabbing Harry's hands into hers, eyes wide. "Oh no, is that why you've been trying to keep this thing with Draco a secret? Because you think we'll all reject you? No, Harry! You're my very best friend and you've saved us all! We just want you to be happy! Ron, too, you know, I know it. Inside he just—Oh, Harry!"

Harry had started to cry, without warning. It was one thing to learn he wouldn't be rejected by his friends, but for Hermione to say it so plainly, so earnestly... that deep bubble inside him full of agonized worry from the last five years simply popped, spilling it out all over him. Hermione came around the table and pulled Harry's head to her stomach. He wrapped his arms around her.

"I was so scared, Hermione. I'd only ever talked to Ron and he was against it, I thought... everybody. And he let me touch him, but I knew—"

"Touch him!" Hermione pushed his head back so she could look at him. Her eyes were squinted and her mouth, clenched. "You... you and Ron?"

She was angry, obviously, but Harry didn't know why and was horrified that she was angry with him. He _needed_ her to love him right now. "Yes," he whispered, finally.

"Oh, that bastard! That fucking, wanking bastard!"

Harry laughed in relief and felt another series of fat tears leave his eyes "No, he didn't want to wank. That was the point."

Hermione let go of his head and sat down next to him. "And now you're with Draco and he's jealous and he thinks he might be gay so he's going around like a little twat with no testicles." Harry thought of a twat _with_ testicles and he felt better. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's really wretched of him to do this to you. You're happy with Draco, though, yeah? You're having a good time?"

Harry smiled and wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. Hermione pulled a handkerchief out of nowhere – how was it that everyone had a handkerchief but him? – and Harry blew his nose. "Oh, I got snot all over your blouse. That's a pretty blouse, Hermione. Ah, but, yeah. I'm having a great time with Draco. He's really a very interesting bloke. Funny."

"And the sex is good?" Hermione grinned.

Harry thought of caramel smell, Draco's alabaster skin, their legs tangled together. "The sex is great." He laughed. "So what's been going on with you?"

//

The words were shooting through Harry's consciousness like fire, ruining any chance he had at enjoying his evening. For once, though, he knew he wasn't going to cry. He was too fucking pissed off. When Draco came into the room, he stopped smiling and looked at Harry a bit as if he was a feral dog. Shame flushed through him – he never wanted to hurt or frighten Draco – and he shook out his shoulders, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on anything else. Tulips. Cooking.

"Harry, tell me what happened."

"Ron, of course," he said and forced himself to sit down on the couch nearest to him, his foot tapping madly. "You know what I said to Hermione the other day. Well, she told Ron and he came up to me and informed me that he would never be jealous, that he hoped I wasn't entertaining fantasies of some sweet life we could have together, that he was dating some fifth year Hufflepuff and had already fucked her and it was better than anything with me ever could be."

"Oh, Harry—" Draco touched his hand and, like magic, Harry felt the tension melt from his body, warmth fill in its pace and Harry leaned back and into Draco, lacing their fingers together.

"The thing is, I'm not sad. I would be if it were true, but I could see right through it! It's not that he doesn't want me, it's that he's going to force himself to never be with me. My wanting him, this whole thing, is totally pointless if he's determined to be buried a heterosexual. I feel stupid for thinking it could work."

"You're not stupid, Harry. Fucking Ronald Weasley is stupid." Draco kissed his palm and when Harry looked, he noticed he was doing that staring and concentrating thing Draco did once in a while – right before he announced his History essay topic, before he declared the most attractive Scottish musician and before he proposed their current situation. Harry took Draco's hand in both of his and played with his fingers, waiting patiently for Draco to speak again.

"Yes," Draco said, finally. "We should start dating. Openly, loudly, all gooey in public. It's all backwards that we're trying to hide our relationship. It's like you're ashamed of it and that's not what you need to be telling Ron. Christmas holidays are a week away. We'll introduce it and give him two weeks to stew about it. Yes, good plan."

"It does make more sense. You wouldn't mind?"

"Why would I mind?"

"Well... Draco, why are you doing this for me?" Draco looked away and started fingering a hole in Harry's jeans.

"What? Well I—because—I told you when we started. Because you've sacrificed so much since the moment you realized you were a wizard and your life was so hard before that... I don't mind doing this to see you live a happy, normal life."

"But you must be interested in somebody. And _you_, you're gorgeous. I'll bet you could have anybody... except maybe Ron, stubborn git."

"It's all right, Harry," Draco said and his voice was so sincere that Harry gave in and nodded.

"I still hate that I'm keeping you from someone." Like a flash, Harry realized that maybe he wasn't keeping Draco from someone. Maybe Draco was having all sorts of sex with someone else. Blaise Zabini or Harper Smit.

Harry realized then that he'd never felt jealousy before, not really. Not this hot, all-consuming pain throughout his body, not this hands aching to hold Draco down and _fuck_ him until he couldn't think about anything, much less some other boy, not this angry arousal or this shock of pleasure that he could start touching Draco in front of everyone, prove his claim. Rationality came back slowly and he reasoned: perfectly natural to feel attached to the first boy to lick your penis.

Still, he said, "Yes. Tomorrow I'll show everyone I'm not ashamed, that you're my boyfriend and I want to kiss you all the time."

Draco's eyes darkened. "For Ron," he said, crawling into Harry's lap and grasping Harry's sides, underneath his shirt.

Harry nodded. "For Ron." He kissed Draco with every fibre of his being.

//

At two that morning, Harry walked back to the dorms, thighs sore, mouth red and puffy, incredibly content. He turned a corner and slammed into white beard and slivery blue robes.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he squeaked, tripping backwards. "What are you doing walking the halls at this time of night!"

Dumbledore smiled and reached out to steady Harry by the shoulders. "I was hoping to catch naughty children up past their bedtime."

"Sorry, Professor."

"Instead I find a full-grown adult wandering around just like me. Can't sleep, Harry?"

Harry laughed. "Er. No."

"Or perhaps just too preoccupied with a certain someone to remember to sleep, hmmm? I hoped I'd run into you, actually—no, not so forcefully or at such an hour, but I wanted to tell you that I'm glad to see you and Mr. Malfoy getting along so well. I've felt for some time that you two might make an incredibly good match. I can see I was quite right." Dumbledore winked at him. "Now, I think it would be best that we both went to bed. A little more work ahead of us before holidays."

Dumbledore's words made him more than a bit ill at ease until he decided that he and Draco did make a good match. Regardless of anything else, he'd found a great friend in the other boy. Harry sat down on his bed and rubbed his thighs.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

The next morning, Harry decided to make an announcement to his roommates.

"Seamus, Dean, Nev... Ron. I need to tell you something," he said, walking into the bathroom. At the sinks, Neville stopped shaving, Seamus and Dean, in the middle of a soap-throwing fight got one more good toss in each and looked at him. Ron crossed his arms over his chest and flared his nostrils in his direction.

He cleared his throat. "It's probably not going to come as much of a surprise, but I'm gay. Absolutely, one-hundred... well, ninety-five percent queer. And I'm seeing Draco Malfoy, have been for a while now. I kept quiet because... well, for a lot of reasons... because I was waiting for something else"—he sent a hopefully pointed, sad glance towards Ron—"and because I didn't realize it would become so serious. But it has. Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend."

There was silence for three seconds. Then Neville, looking quite adorable with his hair sticking out in every direction and half a face of shaving foam, said, "Bout time, Harry. You two are quite hot together," and went back to shaving.

"Yes, good for you, mate," Dean said and threw a whole bar of soap at Seamus's chest.

"Hey!" Seamus said. "Time-outs, idiot. Anyway, I'm glad you're happy. I mean, you've seemed very happy. Lucky dogs, the both of you."

Harry looked at Ron, who stared at him. "I... you..." he hissed. "Yes, I hope you're so very happy." Ron shucked his trousers and threw the shower curtain closed behind him. Frustratingly, Harry felt himself harden at the sight of Ron's round arse.

The small room was quiet again, except for the sound of rushing water. Again, Neville was the first to speak. "S-sorry, Harry. He's..."

"Yeah," Seamus said. "Ron's a mate and all, but he's being ridiculous and hateful and..."

"If something were to come up, Harry—" Neville started.

And Dean finished, "We'd all stand for you, mate."

An echo of, "Yeah," came from the other boys.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

Harry showered quickly, wanting to get down to breakfast early and make this announcement to the rest of the school, but found himself stuck in front of his wardrobe. He wanted to look good, needed to look good, he realized as he had a sudden, terrible image of everyone whispering, "But what is that stunning Draco Malfoy doing with _him_?" And they would be right.

He looked at the zit on his chin, his shapeless clothing, his wretched hair, his—_god_—his scary bush-man eyebrows. He did not deserve to be seen with Draco Malfoy in public. Draco with all his perfect, creamy skin, firm, toned body, bright grey eyes underneath lovely normal eyebrows.

He was taken out of his trance of self-deprecation with something hitting his stomach. He caught it and looked at the purple bottle, a little dazedly. "What?"

Neville came up to him. "It's hair product. It's really good stuff. You might play with it if you're so worried about your appearance today." Neville smiled.

For the first time in a long while, Harry really looked at Neville. He was much more fit now, something Harry had noticed at the beginning of the year, his skin was clear of previously common break-outs and his clothes fit well in a way they never could before. His hair looked great as well, styled in a chic, chunky way.

He was pleased for Neville of course, and a bit embarrassed that he hadn't noticed sooner, but his prevailing emotion was distress. Even Neville—oh, what a terrible friend was he—looked far, far better than he did. "I wouldn't know what to do with it," he said, glumly.

"Oh, I'll do it," Neville said, pushing Harry down on to his bed, squeezing from the bottle into his hand. Then he started moving his hands through Harry's hair, his face concentrated. The whole process hurt quite a bit and then, without warning, Neville spread something on his forehead, pressed down a white strip and ripped it off.

"Ow!" Harry yelped. "Shit, Neville, what did you just do?"

"I've waxed your eyebrows. Well one eyebrow. Now I have to do the other."

Wax, press, pull. "Ow!"

"Dear, you're all pink." Neville pulled his wand out and said, "Persipitergum!" He smiled. "Now look at yourself."

Harry stood up and, a little afraid, turned towards the mirror. Wow. "Wow, Nev..."

He looked good. His hair, although still a great mess, looked a good deal more intentional and, he noticed as he shook his head, it didn't move. The shaping of his eyebrows had not only taken away that upsetting caveman look he'd had, but brightened his face, made his eyes even greener. Then he noticed his chin again. "But I have a zit!"

"Well, who knew you'd turn into such a princess. That's not a zit." Neville grabbed hold of his jaw and pinched at the pimple. "There. No more zit. You're now officially creepy, god-like gorgeous. Oh, that's disgusting: I have your skin underneath my fingernails. Excuse me, I have to scrub my hands."

And suddenly, an epiphany. He followed Neville into the bathroom. "Neville! _You're_ gay!"

Seamus, Dean, and Neville, especially hard, exploded with laughter. "Yes, Harry."

Harry left the bathroom flushed red. He got dressed, just tightening his tie when Neville came out of the bathroom. "What you should do is wear Dean's uniform. He's as tall as you and skinny as a bean-pole." Dean gave an offended shout from the toilet. Neville tossed some trousers to him. As he checked out his bum in the mirror, Neville nodded. "Yes, Malfoy seeing you like this is sure to create a great snogging in the middle of the Great Hall."

Ron had a great trip and hit his head on his bedside table. Harry smiled.

As it happened, Neville was quite right. They'd planned it that Draco would meet him at the doors into the Hall and there he was as Harry walked down the stairs. Draco looked up and Harry watched his face slacken into something similar to the fish expression, but much more dignified and hot. He licked his lips and of course, Harry was hard again.

Close to him, Harry grabbed both Draco's hands and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "I look good, don't I?"

Draco stepped a little closer to him, pressing his cock into Harry's thigh. "You look amazing." A little closer still and Draco took his earlobe into his mouth, then whispered, "And I'm sure Ron thinks so, too. Very good plan."

Ron. Oh yes, Ron. Yes, he probably did think so too. Yes, it was a good plan. Good job, Harry. He patted himself on the back.

Draco ran his hands through Harry's hair—or tired to. "Oh, but this hair thing is silly. It's all stiff—I hate that. And it's always looked very good. At least use wizard's hair cream. Where did you even get this muggle stuff?"

"Neville gave it to me."

"Ah. That makes sense." Mmm, Draco's fingers, just lightly on the back of his neck.

"Why—" He swallowed, tried to focus. "Why does that make sense?"

"That muggle boy he was seeing last year would have—"

"What?" Harry screeched. "He was seeing—and you knew?"

"Yes, you poor thing. Everyone knew. I'm sure you were just too busy with fighting dark wizards to notice."

"I feel bad, though. Neville's my mate and—"

"Quite dishy now, isn't he?"

"You fancy Neville!"

"God no, Blaise would kill me."

"Blaise fan—"

Draco covered his mouth with one hand. "Shhh! That's _not_ one that everybody knows."

There was a tickling at the back of his head that told him to ask more about Neville's clandestine muggle affair and what other things he must have missed the year before, but... Draco's hands were trailing under his robes and he smelled like rain.

Nodding at nothing, Harry's eyes trailed to Draco's bottom lip, still wet from Draco's tongue, and licked it with his own tongue. Draco made a sound, torn from his throat and they were kissing. They broke apart for breath and Harry found that he'd pressed Draco up against the wall and pulled Draco's shirt from his trousers.

"Not a secret anymore, then, Draco?" Millicent Bulstrode said, smiling as she passed.

Harry turned to look at her and noticed a great crowd had formed around them. They quickly started to dissipate and when Harry looked back he saw that Draco was sending a fine glare at them. He felt Draco's arms tighten around him and he felt pleasure deep into his stomach. Possessive behaviour, act or no, was entirely hot.

Parvati nudged him as she walked past with her sister. "Congratulations, Harry. It's very sweet."

"Very sweet," said Padma.

A moment later, Terry Boot passed and said, "Guess I'll have to stop flirting with you now, eh?"

Harry gaped. "He doesn't flirt with me! He's not gay!"

Draco chuckled, kissed him on the cheek and let him go, taking his hand and moving them towards the doors again. "Did you think we were the only ones? And of course he does. Most people do, sweetheart, it's just that not everyone plays footsie with you in the bath."

"Well, I don't understand why I don't know _anything_." Draco just squeezed his hand and gave him a little smile, a private smile, that made Harry feel – there was no other way to say it – special.

He walked Harry to the Gryffindor table and kissed him before he went on his way towards Slytherin. Harry giggled, then realized how ridiculous that sounded, then realized it was a good reinforcer that he and Draco were really so in love.

"So sweet," Parvati said again.

"So _hot_." This came from Lavender and the five other girls around her nodded furiously.

"Honestly," Hermione said as she sat down next to him. "They're all being ridiculous. But there, you see? We all love you."

Ron slammed his fist onto the table. "I _don't_ love him!"

Harry grinned and heard Draco laugh from across the Hall. Ron stuffed a sausage in his mouth and it happened again.

//

The next week went splendidly. Crabbe came up to him and said, "So. We're cool now too, okay? I mean not _that _cool. But cool that you and Draco are that cool. Just so you know." Students they barely recognized starting giving Harry and Draco gifts. It was mostly candy and little things from Zonko's, but a blushing fourth year Ravenclaw called Pippa Little gave them a butter dish and second year Simon Walsh presented a little basket with a melon baller and a cantaloupe, "So you can use it!" It was as if they'd been married and everyone wanted to help them build their household.

The only disappointment was that, despite his new plan, Ron did nothing.

As he packed to leave for Christmas holiday, Harry realized that he had no idea what he expected to Ron to do. That he'd become so overcome with jealousy that he'd stand up on the High Table and declare his everlasting love for Harry Potter? Ideally, yes, he decided, but what was supposed to happen before then? Nothing? Just little bouts of angry staring from Ron and wide-eyed responses from Harry? Maybe.

Harry jumped as a voice came from behind him. "I've accepted you're gay." It was Ron.

Harry felt his body stiffen as he turned to look at him. Oh—Ron was fresh from a bath, still wet, just a towel around his waist. Honeysuckle smell surrounded him. Harry cleared his throat and promptly turned back around. "Good."

Although his advance was silent, Harry knew Ron was directly behind him from the added heat right against his back. "I don't know if I buy Draco, though."

Anger rushed through him. "You don't have to buy him. He's come free of charge... and free of baggage."

"Defensive, Harry. No, I can see that you like him." Without warning, Ron's hand came around him, underneath his sweater, but still on top of his shirt, warm and wet. Ron's mouth was right by his ear as he whispered, "You remember, though, don't you? You and me."

One finger found its way between two buttons of Harry's shirt and circled his bellybutton. He swallowed down the noise in his throat, clenched his hands around the side of his trunk. "I remember we never got as close as we are right now."

"No. But I still held your cock, didn't I, Harry? It was so heavy in my hand. I still think about it at night..."

This time swallowing only made the sound come out strangled, desperate.

Ron laughed. The sound was smug. "So I thought." He pulled away and Harry shivered. "Sorry you're not coming to the Burrow tomorrow. Everyone will miss you."

He started to walk back towards the bathroom, but Harry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Anger and arousal battled through his body, making him shake—when had Ron become so conniving? "So you thought! So I thought, Ron Weasley. You're a coward," he said and kissed him, hard so he could feel their teeth pressed into their lips, cutting. "Yes, Ron. I love you. What are you going to do about it?"

Ron looked at him, concentrating, deliberating, and apparently deciding that what he was going to do about it was to take a step away and then another.

"Predictable, that's what you are. Run away, Ron. Run!"

Looking like he might cry – a perverse part of Harry was glad; he had cried so much over Ron – Ron followed Harry's advice and, stopping for barely five seconds to grab some clothes from his trunk, ran from the room.

Harry knew that this was an important development and he had to tell Draco, but later that night, when they were alone together in their room, Harry found himself nervous to bring it up. They were laid out on separate couches, Draco reading one of the books in _The Chronicles of Narnia_, a ratty paperback Harry had snatched from Hermione and Harry simply staring at the ceiling, chewing at his cuticles.

Draco laid the book on his chest, marking his place with two fingers, and looked at him. "That's a new habit. What a horrible thing to start, Harry."

He forced himself to lay his arms at his sides, but his middle finger was back in his mouth just a few seconds later.

Draco sat up. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak. When nothing came out, he cleared his throat and tried again. "I—well. I saw—I had an encounter with Ron today."

"You did! What happened?"

Harry rubbed his face hard with the balls of his hands. "He... well, I was packing, alright? And then Ron comes in, just out of the bath, rather wet and with this little washcloth around his waist and... he says, 'Okay you're gay, but you don't want Malfoy, you want me, remember my _hands_' and he's right up against me, touching my stomach, and I bloody _whimper_ and then he's all smug like he's won something and I'm so pissed at him so I grab him and I kiss him—"

"You kissed him," Draco said and when Harry looked at him, he realized something was wrong. Draco's hands were clenched and there was a horrible wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Of course you did. You love him."

"Er... yes, kissed him. Oh, and I called him a coward and he absolutely ran from the room."

Draco stood up abruptly and turned and walked away from Harry. "Well, this is great news for you, isn't it? He's affected and he practically admitted he wants to be with you and he touched you and... great. Really great. Oh, it must be nine by now, mustn't it? I haven't packed at all and the train leaves at eight tomorrow, you know, so... better go."

By the time Harry thought to respond, the door was shut behind Draco. What had just happened? Harry looked around the room and the _Narnia _book was still on Draco's couch. With nothing to do alone in the room, Harry grabbed the book and walked into the hallway. Then he was in the hallway and he scuffed his heals against the ground and wondered why he didn't know what to do.

He should really just go to the common room and hang around with his friends—he wouldn't see them for another two weeks, after all. Ron would be playing chess with Seamus and he could sit with Hermione and watch him, pretend to study. Yeah, good. Harry walked two metres to his right and then stopped again and looked behind him.

Down the other way was the Slytherin dormitories. Perhaps he should go see what was wrong with Draco although he obviously didn't want to be with Harry. Another metre forward and he stopped again. Well, he was worried, wasn't he? Might as well go take care of the worry so he could sleep that night. Unfinished business with Draco always kept him awake.

Harry turned around and headed for the Slytherin common room. "Idée lumineuse," he said to the wall and walked in, completely unprepared for what he saw.

Draco was trying to crawl into Blaise's body through his mouth, or perhaps by ripping through his skin, starting with his shirt, the buttons popped off around them on the couch. That was the only explanation.

Or perhaps they were snogging, but this idea gave Harry such an aching stomach ache that he thought it wasn't really possible. But as Blaise gave a ferocious moan, Harry realized it was more than possible. It was true.

Right. Good. Nothing wrong with Draco, no need to stick around, Harry thought as he did his best to walk at a normal pace from the room. But he was out of breath from running by the time he got to the Fat Lady.

"Oh my!" she said. "You're crying, dear. What's wrong?"

"I am?" Harry reached up to his face and indeed he was. "It's nothing, I'm being an idiot."

And he truly was being an idiot. Draco had every right to kiss anybody he wanted. Of course he did. He wasn't committed to anybody.

It was this show they were putting on for Ron's affections that was causing all the trouble. It was confusing him, screwing up what was real and what wasn't. Besides, he'd been jealous of Ron and Hermione's other friends before... this was really no different. He only wanted to be the most important boy in Draco's life because Draco was the most important in his (except Ron, of course). He'd seen so little of Draco with other people that he didn't know how to reaction his kissing—oh, kissing. Draco arching up into Blaise, Blaise's tongue on Draco's perfect lips... he felt sick again and now he was thinking in circles.

He composed himself, pressing too hard against his eyes and said the password. Looking around at everyone, Harry realized he needed to be alone to brood and went right up to bed. He didn't fall asleep for a very long time.

//

The train ride to King's Cross Station might have been the most miserable experience of Harry's life.

Light was breaking out his window as Harry finally got to sleep, so of course he slept late. Draco woke him up and he barely had time to get to Hogsmeade let alone do his hair or anything, so he was sure the entire ride that he looked like a banshee with short, sticking-up hair. Then, from the very start, Draco and Hermione had important Head People business to attend to and Harry was left alone in their compartment. He was tired, but started feeling sick every time he closed his eyes, so he slouched in his seat, at once both missing Draco and wishing he could hit him for wanting Blaise Zabini more than Harry.

Once Hermione and Draco came back, things got worse. Hermione declared she was exhausted and lay down on one of the seats, forcing Draco to sit next to Harry and forcing them to sustain conversation between themselves or stay silent.

They opted for silence. It would seem that they were ignoring each other, but Harry couldn't manage to focus on anything but Draco. Below the sound of the rushing wheels and Hermione's light snoring, he could hear him breathing. He could feel the heat of his body, leaving Harry's left side cold. He could smell Draco's soap and the usual spicy plums.

And with every passing second, Harry felt himself growing more and more hysterical. Would they never speak again? Would they even be able to stand each other's company long enough for Harry to give Draco Hermione's book back—would Draco even get to finish the book! Was this the end? And if it was, what were they ending? Their friendship?—Because Draco snogged Blaise Zabini? Why was he so upset anyway and why was Draco so upset with him? What were they going to do over the holiday? Oh god! He was meeting Draco's mother!

"So, are you dating Blaise now?" he said in a rush, unaware he'd even been wondering.

"No!" Draco yelled. Hermione groaned a little and moved in her sleep. They turned to each other and both went to reach for the other, then pulled back. "I'm sor—well. We never defined the rules... I know everyone's supposed to think we're dating, but Blaise still does think that! I only told him we'd had a fight and played on Neville's not—was I not allowed to be with anybody else?"

"No, no, of course not. If you like Blaise—"

Draco groaned and hit his head on the back of the seat. "I don't like Blaise."

Then _why_ were you _snogging_ him? Harry's brain shrieked. "Well... I mean, if you like anybody. Of course you'd want to be with him. I don't want to stop you from being happy, of course I don't... It was just a surprise, I suppose."

Draco gave a small smile. "Harry... I am happy. No need to worry about that, I just... when you said... are you getting a bit... befuddled about this, as I am? Like... confusing the show with real life?"

"_Yes_," Harry said. "I mean, we're practically dating, spending so much time together and—"

"All the sex."

"Exactly. It's just that it's meant to end and I'm in love with someone else."

Draco leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Yes, Ron," he said and then muttered something that might have included "mad" or "bad," "idea" or "tortilla."

"Are we going to be okay?"

Draco took a deep breath and smiled at him. "Of course we are. You're my best mate. I need you."

In one smooth motion, Harry was straddled on Draco's lap. "You're my best mate too, you know?" He rubbed his nose against Draco's. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

They kissed and Harry relaxed against him. They stayed that way until Harry jumped up and said, "Oh hell! I'm meeting your parents in an hour! And I look like a banshee!"

Laughing, Draco took his hand and led him out of the compartment. "You look nothing like a banshee. I say we go wash your face and have a bit of a snog in the bathroom."

No, it seemed losing Sirius and the Final Battle with Voldemort were tied for most miserable once again.

//

It was an unexpectedly beautiful day in London when they arrived, but Harry didn't notice. He felt like his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest or into his stomach so he vomited all over Narcissa Malfoy.

"Harry." It was Draco's voice, but he was so far away. "Harry! You're not breathing."

Wasn't he? Oh. Nope. Harry gasped and felt dizzy, tripping down the step as he walked out the train exit. Draco caught him and started petting his hair. "Harry, it's only my parents—"

"Only! Only your parents?" Harry gripped Draco's hand and didn't blink. "Draco, your father wanted to kill me a year ago and carries a big _cane_ and your mother has cheekbones like Aphrodite wanted to make men weep and fingernails sharpened into points! Of course I don't buy all that pureblood crap, but Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy walk into a room and it seems ridiculous that anyone can share the same air."

There was a strange choking noise and Harry realized Draco was trying not to laugh, the prick. He took on his very most menacing glare. Draco snorted and the shock of this made him calm down. "I know they've a very intimidating face, but they're just people underneath. You like me, don't you? I got my charm and sweet disposition from somewhere."

Oh, the liar! "That didn't even make any sense. Oh, there's our trunks. Where are carts? Terry Boot spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom during Transfiguration – don't pretend that wasn't you."

Draco gave a little wave of the hand. "I was only defending my territory. He was flirting with you again. I can't just let him do it, can I?"

"He wasn't—"

"Of course he was. Oh, there's Mummy and Dad." Draco pointed. "They've carts. Hello, Mum!" Harry looked and he felt sick again. The Malfoys really were a frighteningly attractive family. Lucius looked impeccable in dark green robes and Narcissa was stunning in a long shimmery silver-blue dress, her hair in a perfect pile of waves on her head and her breasts flawless cream.

"Draco!" he hissed. "Look at your mother's—bosom."

"That's disgusting! But they are _magnificent_ breasts." A pause and Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face. "Do try not to stare, please, Harry."

Harry squeezed Draco's arm reassuringly and then ripped his hand away. "Oh, do they know? Do your parents think we're dating?"

"No, I didn't—"

And then Lucius and Narcissa were upon them. Lucius smiled broadly and came around his cart to hug Draco. "Here's my son."

Narcissa gave her own wide smile and went to Harry. "And his lovely boyfriend." She held his face between her hands and kissed his cheek. She smelled quite like plums, as well. "Hello, Harry. I'm so glad you decided to join us for Christmas."

In perfect understanding of the other's movements, husband and wife switched places. Harry became painfully tense and jerkily raised his hand to shake with Lucius. But this only made the older Malfoy laugh as he wrapped a gentle arm around Harry's shoulders. "It occurred to me you would be quite right for Draco"—it seemed that had occurred to everyone who knew them—"and I'm glad to see Draco so pink."

Pink? Draco laughed uncomfortably. "Dad can read auras."

"Yes, yes," Lucius said. Was that modesty? Harry's surprise made him forget to ask what a pink aura meant. "Come, lets get your trunks."

"I hope you left lots of room Harry—oh, never mind. You need a new trunk, too, don't you?" Narcissa said, rubbing the back of Draco's neck. It was sweet to see her so affectionate with him. "We're here in London until Tuesday and we're going to spend a lot of money."

"You see, I told you," Draco said, smiling.

Lucius chuckled. "Perfectly pink."

Harry remembered to ask him what it meant again, but this time Molly Weasley interrupted him. Draco took two steps toward him and gracefully wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Mrs. Weasley bridled and gave a horrible wrinkle of her nose.

To his right, Lucius stomped his cane. His lip was curled and his eyes were just barely squinted. This was the first time Harry had been intimidated by the man that morning, but he certainly was intimidating now. In defence of his family. It was very noble.

Mrs Weasley smiled too big and said too loudly, "So lovely to see you, Harry. We're all very sad to see you've changed... your plans. If you need anything, though, the Burrow is always there for you, you know."

Harry knew he was looking at his future mother-in-law, at the woman who had been his mother in spirit for six years, but there was no way to stop his saying, "I'm sure I won't need anything from you." He wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulder and Draco leaned his head into the crook of Harry's neck.

The smile widened even more. "Of course, Harry. Have a happy Christmas," he said and walked away.

Ron stared at him for a moment before following his mother and then there was just Ginny, staring at her hands clenching her cart. "Er. Bye, Harry. Bye—Draco. Er, bye, Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Happy Christmas. See you at school." Lucius and Narcissa responded politely and appropriately, but Harry and Draco were struck dumb.

As she spoke, Ginny's gaze moved from her hands to each person in jerky movements. She stood there silently for a moment more and when Harry finally thought to wish her a happy Christmas as well, she started again, "I really... I'm sor—well. Yes, happy Christmas. Bye."

Harry and Draco called goodbyes and good wishes after her as she hurried to her mother and Mrs Weasley sent a glare back at them as the three went through the wall out into King's Cross.

Draco kissed his cheek and Lucius helped load their bags on to the carts and they walked toward the wall.

As he watched Draco smile at something funny from Narcissa, a thought came to mind and left again without Harry noticing: no, he really didn't need anything else.

//

Before this holiday, Harry had only ever owned one pair of jeans at a time. Only after Sunday, he had seven and at the end of the week, he owned fourteen. Fourteen different pairs of denim trousers.

"Draco," he called to Draco as he packed them into a beautiful new set of trunks Narcissa insisted on buying, "do you know I have fourteen pairs of jeans now?"

"Yes, I know," Draco said, after spitting out toothpaste. "I'm sorry. We'll go shopping again at Easter."

While in London, they stayed at a very modern penthouse in the West End. He and Draco slept in the biggest bed he'd ever seen, suspended from the ceiling with silk black and white sheets. When Harry first saw it, the worry that Draco would use it as an excuse to sleep away from him possessed him. Of course it was for nothing, Harry falling asleep with Draco's arm around him and waking up with Draco on top of him.

Coming out of the bathroom in low-riding white cotton bottoms, Draco said, "So, I thought since this is our last night in London, we might do something special."

"Can you fold coats?" Harry said, holding up one of six new pieces of outerwear.

Draco flung himself on to the bed and it swung a little back and forth. "Don't be ridiculous. You put it on a hanger and hang it in that trunk there. It stands upright."

"Right. Well, yes, something special sounds great. What were you thinking of?"

"Turn right at the front entrance of this building and take the next corner and you're in SoHo, so I thought... a gay club. When I first came out, Dad insisted he take me and I've blocked all memory of that, so you've never been and I've never been and it seems like one of those basic gay things. Drinking and rubbing and looking and such."

It sounded very good to Harry. Rubbing and looking. Harry lay down next to Draco. "Brilliant. I certainly have the right clothes to wear."

Draco kissed him thoroughly, his tongue sweet and minty. "And I certainly have the right hands to peal them off you."

"And teeth."

They dressed – Draco had the right hands to help him with that, too – and went to say goodbye to Draco's parents. They were sitting on a couch in the living room, reading different parts of the _Prophet_. Narcissa's feet were on Lucius's lap and he was absently playing with the end of her nightgown. Harry smiled. He'd grown very affectionate of them. The more time he spent with them, the more they seemed a stereotype of the average family.

"We're going dancing," Draco said.

"Some anonymous sex and orgies, I assume?"

"Mum!" Draco gasped. Harry laughed.

"Oh, Draco darling, it's not so bad. Harry, you know when Lucius and I were younger—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Younger? Like last week, you mean, you pervy—"

"He's right, dear," Lucius said and they shared a smiled. "It's rather inappropriate. But boys, are you sure you want to go alone? I could apparate to the Manor, get my leather—"

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but in an effort to save Draco's skin from melting away from blushing, he said, "No need. We're just going to go."

"Only wanted to say goodnight, loving parents. Goodnight!"

Lucius and Narcissa gave little waves goodbye as the lift doors closed and Draco groaned and fell back against the walls. "They've done that all along of course, thinking it would mortify me because that's _so cute_ or something but it only works when someone I—care about is around and I _loathe_ that they know that now."

"They've never been around someone you care about before?"

"Well, no. Not, er—" Draco coughed into his shoulder. "Not like this."

This made Harry feel ridiculously good. In your face, Blaise Zabini. Not that Blaise wanted Draco, of course, incredible idiot that he was. "So what club are we going to?"

"It's called Utopia and it's incredibly popular. Membership only and there's still no guarantee you'll get through the door. Hot men when I went there with Dad, but it was so awkward and so intense anyway that I don't remember it very well. It's right around the corner. Mum and Dad are so funny." He laughed. "They insisted on moving the penthouse so that I'd have 'access to all the gay atmosphere possible.' They went mad at the beginning that they were stifling me with heterosexuality... as if they weren't the most sexually liberated parents ever already."

"You just moved the whole flat?"

"Sure. We could put it at the top of any tall building. Honestly, that's the only reason it's a penthouse. Muggles don't even know it's there. Miss the button on the lift like they miss the door into the Leaky Cauldron. Rode up with a bloke once and he pressed his floor and I pressed mine and he looked at the board and said, 'You're on tenth floor too, are you?'"

"Isn't that funny. Your parents are funny, too. I really like them." He sighed and leaned against the wall next to Draco.

"Oh hell, is all this family activity making you feel more like an orphan? Oh, hell! That came out very callous. Good thing we're going out for sex. My mouth occupied and all that."

Harry grabbed Draco's hand and leaned on his shoulder a little. "You're silly. All this family activity is making me feel less like an orphan, I promise. Still pleased that sex is on the horizon, though."

"Good." Draco squeezed his hand. "Mum mentioned at she wanted to make you feel as accepted as possible, as part of the family. Because you are, she said. I'm actually a little nervous about telling her the truth of it all, actually."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Draco seemed to approve of this and they walked out of the building and into the line in front of the club in silence. It was only then, surrounded by fifty chatting gay men, that it seemed like they should talk again, but they were saved the trouble by a muscular black man walking down the line and picking out a few guys to go into the club.

He looked Draco up and down and gestured forward. Draco grabbed Harry's hand and raised an eyebrow. The man laughed and patted Harry's ass and into the club they went. Inside the door there was a coat check and then a thin, steep, black stairway, blue light and techno music presenting the way up. Nearly naked men groped each other up the stairs, blocking what little room there was to move. Harry might have been propositioned four times.

On the main floor, to one side there were toilets and to the other there was... a sex room it seemed from the sex going on inside it. They moved on to the dance floor where the music volume was almost painful and Harry was pressed up against a few strangers no matter where they moved.

Taking a deep breath – the scent of sweat and alcohol was almost overwhelming, but Harry could still make out Draco's soap – Harry threw his head back and laughed. Draco leaned in close to him and shouted, "Are you happy?"

Harry licked Draco's earlobe in thanks and shouted back, "This is amazing!"

They danced – if you considered moving your hips and your shoulders a little bit dancing and Harry did – for probably three or four songs although it was hard to tell when songs changed or pay attention to the music regardless and then Draco pointed toward the bar. Harry nodded and let Draco lead him by the hand to the long counter covering one wall. Draco ordered two Cosmos.

"What's a Cosmo?" Harry shouted, before realizing that it was a lot easier to hear at the bar. His ears were starting to buzz.

Draco laughed. "It's a Vodka cocktail. First thing Mum did when I came out was make me one – said I deserved some hard alcohol because I'd just become a man and that Cosmopolitans are the gayest drink ever. But they're actually really good, so it's my drink now, I guess. When I'm around Muggles, anyway."

"You and your parents spend more time with Muggles than I would have expected, shopping at Harrods and eating at Mirabelle and all that."

Their drinks came and the bartender gave Draco a long once-over. Harry could feel little shots of jealously rushing through him, but he did his best to just put that away.

"Oh, they have their uses," Draco said, smirking. "We always have spent quite a bit of time around Muggles. Until I was about nine—I guess that's when Voldemort got all stuck on Quirrell—and we hand to lay low, not do anything outside the wizarding world. Mum was desolate, threw herself into correspondence."

Harry sipped his drink. It tasted like especially bitter cranberries, but he liked it. "I approve."

Draco smiled. "Oh good. You look very good tonight, by the—" He was interrupted by a young guy with golden good looks walking past them and running his hand down Draco's side, looking back and smiling. Draco waved him off, but said, "He was fit," with a sexy bite on the "t."

"He was very fit." Harry gripped the stem of his glass. "Loads of guys are checking you out—"

With an eye roll, "Yes, and you're horribly lacking attention."

"And—" but then Draco's words registered and Harry looked around, surprised. Oh, yes, he was being checked out. He blinked and then remembered what he'd been saying. "Loads of hot guys and you know we're not actually attached, so..." Harry felt heat down his neck at how harsh those words sounded. He cleared his throat. "I say go for it. I won't because... well, Ron, you know, but... you don't get to London very much, so why not—"

A little wrinkle between his eyes, Draco stared at Harry, trying to figure something out. "Alright. I'll just go dance with that gorgeous chap there. See you." His back very tense, Draco went back out to the dance floor and effectively wrapped himself around a guy that was perhaps Italian, perhaps Greek, but definitely, definitely just _wretched_ and—

Harry finished the rest of his drink in one swallow and then gestured for another round, although he didn't touch his glass for the rest of the night.

Well, that bloke was very fast, wasn't he? His hands were already down the back of Draco's trousers, giving his arse a little rub. And Draco didn't seem to mind by the way he was kissing—god, kissing! What was he doing kissing a bloke he didn't know at all? Inner Hermione came and gave his brain a little flick and he took a deep breath. The Italian bloke had every right to touch every bit of Draco's smooth, perfect skin and Draco had every right to enjoy it, kiss him, go and fuck him in that sex room at the top of the stairs. Oh, and Draco probably would too, just go act like a big—

Oh hell. Harry wanted to kick himself in the mouth for the word that he nearly thought. He was acting like a big brutish bastard. It was _his_ idea that Draco do this and it was a very good idea. Draco was an uninvolved, gorgeous gay boy. He was exactly the person to experiment while he was young.

But there they were going, off to the sex room! Draco was really going to do it! He was going to go off with that stranger and take off his pants for him and perhaps put the condom on the Italian's dick himself—Harry's brain shut down for two seconds and then slowly started again in a horrible red haze.

Would Draco actually let that bloke fuck him? Would he let his first time be in a sex room in a gay club with some Italian? So casual? Then it occurred to Harry that perhaps it wasn't his first time. Perhaps he'd had lots of cocks inside him before and... the anger dissipated and Harry was left cold in the sweaty room, his stomach gone off somewhere.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the bright purple of the bartender's shirt behind him. A warm hand came down on his shoulder and he shivered. "Ay, mate," said the bartender. "You know, promiscuous sex isn't for every relationship. Sometimes... you love somebody so much that you need to keep them to yourself. It's okay to tell him that."

Harry shook his head, looking in the bartender's face, but not seeing him. "We're not dating. He's just a friend. I'm in love with someone else."

The bartender gave him a small smile. His mouth was a lot like Draco's. "Right. Well, you might want to tell your friend that you have a problem with his having other men in front of you, then."

"I shouldn't have a problem—"

Then there was another hand on his shoulder and he was whipped around. Draco was in front of him, looking livid. "Well, I have a problem," he said. "I know we're not together and I know you're in love with Ron and I know we gays are supposed to have lots of sex all over the place, but I came to this club to spend time with you—I asked you on this _holiday_ to be with you! So, I say we go dance and take this experience and go home and enjoy that stupid bed one more time before we're back at the Manor my mother goes Christmas Nazi on us. What do you think?"

Harry felt joy like shots of light rush through his body. He slipped off the stool and into Draco's arms. He tasted like mint and smelled like himself and felt like smooth perfection. Draco giggled into his mouth and ran the tip of his nose down Harry's cheek. "They have mouthwash in the toilets."

Harry pushed them into the mob of dancers, never breaking Draco's gaze and they stayed that way until Harry's shirt was heavy wet with sweat and half the clientele had gone home.

He was dizzy when they finally left and gripped the railing all the way down the stairs. A shock of reality came in the form of the pouring rain outside.

"Should we get a cab?" Harry said, pulling on his jacket. It felt disgusting against his shirt. "We're already soaking wet."

"Let's walk. It's really not that cold out—" It wasn't. Especially considering it was the end of December, it was a very warm rain. The weather their entire time there had been uncharacteristically beautiful. "And the sky is so clear."

Draco took his hand and they moved through the rain, that dazedness from dancing coming back to him. All the colour around them morphed into a wet impressionist painting and he could barely feel his feet touch the ground. At the front of their building, Draco stopped and started spinning around in circles, looking up to the sky and stretching his arms out.

His leather jacket was ruined, his hair was sticking to the sides of his face and he lost his balance a few times, but Harry had never seen anything so pure, so vibrant, so beautiful in his life.

Draco stopped moving and looked at Harry, grinning, laughing and looking at him as if Harry was the one with something so amazing inside him.

Two steps and Draco was in his arms, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, into the building, slammed up against the wall of the lift, stabbing at the top buttons with his foot, hoping they got to the penthouse at the end. A bell and Draco murmured against his mouth, "Here, Harry, darling, home," and they stumbled out of the flat and then into their bedroom, kicking off shoes, pulling off clothes, nearly falling down, but somehow making it to the bed.

"Inside me, Draco." Draco pulled away and looked at him wide-eyed. So beautiful. Harry groaned and pulled him back down for another taste. "I want you to fuck me and then I want to fuck you—be inside you, connected to you, a part of you."

"Always," Draco whispered and Harry could feel his tongue everywhere: in his mouth, on his neck, down his cheek, on his chest. Harry rubbed up against him, unable to get his brain to focus enough to change positions into something more fitting or speak again.

Draco reached between them – Harry could feel his fingertips down his stomach – and grabbed Harry's cock. This was certainly not the first time he'd done this, but the skin was so sensitive, his reaction so severe, that it was as if it was. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and begged anything powerful listening that he didn't come before they even started. "Harry," Draco said and he looked at him. The other boy was so incredibly beautiful, wet and open against black silk, that Harry could barely breathe. "Do we need a condom?"

"I—I don't—I can't have anything—" Draco nodded and smiled into his neck, squeezing Harry to him.

"It's my first time, too." Oh, _that_ went straight to his cock and he screamed out, a shock of pleasure all through his body.

A murmured lubrication spell – Harry had memorized all three – but he couldn't remember which one it was or who said it. Then he said, "Up on your knees. You can—you can sit on my cock, make it go at a comfortable speed."

Nodding, he did as he was told. He knew there would be pain, vaguely, and made an attempt at first to move down slowly, but there was an angry aching in his gut, desperate to be filled and he took most of the rest of his cock all at once. Draco shouted and gripped the sheets desperately, the veins in his arms showing all the way up to his shoulders. Harry moved, then, mindlessly, the pleasure overtaking him, Draco's pleasure, Draco's beauty overtaking him until there was nothing but feeling, inside, outside, pure and fierce.

Harry felt himself come, but continued to move up and down. When he felt a hot splash of Draco's orgasm inside him, he realized he'd become hard again and come one more time along with him. Gasping, Harry pulled off of Draco, then whimpering a little at the loss, laid down on top of him.

Draco started to laugh and then and Harry smiled into his chest until the sound got a little strangled. Looking up, he saw that Draco was crying, tears down already damp skin. "Draco!" Harry ran his hands down Draco's cheeks, over his eyes, followed them with his mouth and then kissed him as carefully as he could. But this only seemed to make it worse. Draco pushed Harry off him and sat up, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped tight around himself.

"Draco..." Harry pressed a hand to Draco's back, shaking with his sobbing. Harry was terrified. This was not the way this was supposed to end. What had he done? What could he do to fix it?

Gasping in a breath, Draco said, "I—I—I'm sorry, Harry. This was—oh, beauty—it was perfect. You—I—I just—" There was a word caught in Draco's throat, choking him.

With nothing else to do, Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Draco's body, pressed kisses into his shoulder. "Draco, precious, I'm so sorry." He realized then that he was crying, too. "What can I do? I'll do anything."

Draco seemed to sob for hours, but finally his breathing returned to normal and Harry thought he might have fallen asleep. Then Draco sat up, forcing Harry to break his hold on him, and move away. He ran both hands through his hair and turned and smiled at Harry. "You're a very good protector. Ron will never have any fears." Ron. Ron! Oh, god! "We should take showers. This bed is a mess."

A glace at the sheets – wet and wrinkled and stained with come – but no reaction. Harry hadn't thought of Ron since... god, about five o'clock that afternoon. Harry had been packing Ron's Christmas present into his trunk. From Draco's watch on the bedside table, it had been nine hours. How could he—it was just all this time with Draco. It was good that he became absorbed in what he was doing. It would make him a very attentive boyfriend when Ron finally came around.

Oh, god! Draco's cock up his ass. He'd asked—he'd begged Draco to fuck him. And it was the most intense feeling of his life. The shower turned on. He'd been planning, at least in the back of his mind, that Ron would be his first time. It seemed like that was something so intimate, so important that... but even as he tried to regret it, he couldn't. Every time he thought of the vision of Draco bellow him, the feeling of utter completeness, Harry could feel his cheek muscles twitch into a smile.

Harry stood up and walked into the steamy bathroom. Glass door open and a step inside and Harry said, "Wash your back?" realizing only then that he was painfully hard again.

With a long look up and down Harry's body, Draco smiled and then his legs were around Harry's waist again.

It wasn't until the next morning that Harry realized this time it took twelve hours for him to think of Ron.

//

Those first four days in London, Draco called his mother the Christmas Nazi five, maybe six times, all in passing. Harry had noticed, vaguely, the way someone notices five red doors when they're walking down the street. He was in no way prepared for Narcissa Malfoy in pure Christmas form.

"The photographer is going to be here at seven o'clock. We are going to Floo to the forest for the tree at seven-thirty – that means you boys are bright-eyed and attractive at seven-thirty, not just rolling out of bed at seven-thirty, you understand me – then back here by nine to trim the tree, Christmas dinner brunch at eleven, then shots of us in sweaters around the house until one. Then you two are free to do whatever you want until three, but then you have to be right downstairs, tea with the Duke and Duchess of York and their daughters, and then supper with the Minister at seven."

With a swirl of pink silk, Narcissa left Draco's bedroom where house-elves were unpacking Draco's things, Draco was trying on his new pairs of shoes, and Harry was marvelling that Draco's mattress was four feet off the floor. "Dinner brunch?" Harry said.

"The sunlight is at its best in the grand dinning room at eleven, so the best pictures of our Christmas feast are then produced."

Harry smiled at Draco's syntax. "And did she mean Prince Andrew?"

"No, the other Duke of York." Generally, Harry was very good at picking out Draco's incredibly dry sarcasm, but it was hard to take Draco seriously when he wore purple – "_Plum_, Harry," as if that made it better – driving shoes and this time Harry wasn't sure. Draco rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, Prince Andrew and his funny children. Don't worry, you'll like them. The photo shoot, all six hours of it, is rather fun as well."

It was fun and he did like the royals and dinner with Scrimgeour the whole huge list of things Narcissa had for them to do. Harry was kept so busy for the next twelve days of the holiday what with Narcissa's unforgiving schedule and as much sex as possible that not only did he basically forget about Ron, but Hogwarts, the rest of England, even the world, as well, everything but the current moment at the Manor with Draco. Twelve straight days without anybody crying, any death threats, or monster attacks or unfortunate events of any kind. When he took the time to think about it, he felt that he was finally living the unmannered life teenagers were supposed to.

Because of this, Sunday's arrival and the trip back to King's Cross came as a shock. He hugged Lucius and Narcissa goodbye – how bizarre this would have been two weeks before only occurred to him later – and got all his trunks on the train and sat sadly alone in a compartment near the back while Draco went away for Head Boy duties. The appearance of Seamus and Dean and then Ginny and Luna perked him up, but it wasn't until Neville threw open the door, red and sobbing, that normalcy really returned.

//

Normalcy remained until that night. Harry and Draco had a glorious goodnight against the wall of their room and then, both exhausted although it was barely seven o'clock, they decided to go to bed.

Harry had just changed into pyjamas and crawled into bed when Ron came into the room. He'd had a haircut over Christmas and it was much shorter now, giving him an adorable little boy look. This cuteness was only enhanced by his fidgeting at the foot of Harry's bed, biting his lip and hoping to either foot. He had an urge to move into that position, with his knees pulled up, still uncomfortable although his arse was much better formed now, but he suppressed it, maybe even pulled his sheets flat to show off his hardened cock.

"Have a good holiday, Ron?" he said.

Ron nodded and glanced at him. "Yeah. Yeah, you?"

An unbidden smile came across his face. "Great, great holiday. Yeah." Ron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it, again and again, spreading an awkward silence over them until Harry finally continued, "Need something, Ron?"

"No. Harry—"

"Yes."

"I... er. Noticed your new clothes. You look very fit."

"Well, thanks—" Wait. Fit? His smile disappeared. Ron thought he looked fit? Was that a complement? Was that something that might actually make Ron seem a little—gay? "What?"

"Yeah, especially the, er—stretchy thing you were wearing on the train. The blue thing. Brought out your eyes and your—er—stomach." That was certainly a complement. Quite the gay complement. "Listen, Harry—" Ron sent him a miserable, expectant look. Harry shrugged, helplessly. "Harry, I know you're with Mal—Draco, er. Draco Malfoy, you know... I know you're dating him, but... well, you were sort of with... me... _before_, you know and I thought that you might, well, I'd like you to consider me... again. I'd like you to break up with Draco Malfoy and date me. I'm gay, too. Date me... please. Or... consider it, like I said. I'd like you to."

Ron smiled a horrible, sad, small smile and turned away from him. Harry tried to get his voice to work, but his throat was thick, his mouth sticky, his arse still sore from Draco's last turn on top, and he could only make out a broken, "Ron—"

Ron stopped walking away from him and turned around, his expression first hopeful and then suddenly determined. "Sod it. Harry, I'm not going to take no for an answer. You're hard right now, I can see it through the covers and I've been your best mate for six years and you've only just met _Malfoy_ and I think you were in love with me and I think you still are and I'm in love with you too and we're going to be together."

And then Ron's mouth was on his and it was all softness and tea taste and _Ron_ and they were naked before Harry realized anything had happened. Seeing Ron pucker his lips and kiss Harry's cock for the first time, feeling Ron's hands squeezing his arse cheeks, hearing Ron's little whimpers, these things were crystal clear in his memory as Ron curled himself around Harry to fall asleep. In the darkness and the quiet, Harry breathed in everything he'd ever wanted.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

There was an aching in his hands and he reached out for something that wasn't there. Squeezed his hands shut until his nails were digging into his palms and he was shaking.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

Ron seemed to take it for granted that they were officially dating. This irked Harry sort of, but he ignored that. Ron was right. Dating Ron was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he'd been trying to get for years and it would be stupid to not take it now.

He hardly slept that night and he was awake again at five that morning. He knew he had to tell Draco that their plan had worked, that he was about to start his life with Ron, before he found out some other way and he got up and hurried down the cold stone halls to the Slytherin dormitory. Oh, how he didn't want to do this. It felt like breaking up with Draco and of course that wasn't what he was doing. They were never dating. And Draco knew that and he wouldn't think of it as breaking up, either. But even as Harry rationalized this again and again, oh, how he still didn't want to do it.

Draco's door opened silently and he was still deeply asleep in bed as Harry walked in the room. He smiled. Draco looked like an angel – well, an angel who'd gotten in a little squabble – all pearly, pale beauty against rumbled white sheets, a little pout on his lips.

Harry felt the urge to crawl into bed with him and kiss that pout and feel warm skin against his, so cold without a robe or slippers, felt the urge through his entire body and when he remembered why he'd come, that he couldn't ever do that again, Harry pulled his arms around himself and pressed against the wall.

With a little moan, Draco woke up and stretched and opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of Harry.

"Harry," he said and his voice was sexy, sleep-roughened. "Come to wish me good morning?" His blinked and seemed to register how Harry looked for the first time, sitting up.

"Harry! What's wrong with you, baby?" The endearment was a knife in Harry's chest.

He shook his head and tightened his hold on himself. "Nothing. Nothing. Ron told me he's in love with me last night."

Draco's face went slack and he looked away. "Oh, Harry." He smiled. "That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah. I'm happy too."

"So, do you think we need a big messy break-up today?" Draco got up – and oh, he wasn't wearing pyjamas. The casual nakedness, the swings of his cock, the little clenches of his arse as he moved to his wardrobe, each made Harry feel worse and worse.

"No," he said. He cleared his throat. "Ron can be really jealous. It'd be better to say our dating was nothing."

"Nothing."

The pain in Draco's voice struck Harry and ripped him across the room, the need to hold Draco, comfort him, overpowering. He just stopped himself, barely a foot away from him, but he couldn't stop the words: "It wasn't nothing! Of course it wasn't nothing."

Draco turned and finally looked at him again. "We're still friends, then?"

"Yeah, of course. I need you, remember?" They shared a smile and went to hug, but Draco's nakedness was realized by both at once and they jumped away from each other.

Harry went to Draco's bed and sat down to wait while Draco pulled on some pants. Draco sat down next to him. They talked until seven, and although Harry had to stop himself from touching Draco, stop himself from staring at Draco's bare chest, stop himself from giving suggestive comments far more than once, Harry was sure these things would stop eventually. They were natural friends and it seemed that this would work out perfectly.

However, when Harry told him an abridged version of these events at breakfast, Ron couldn't understand Harry still wanting to be friends with Draco.

"You were dating him, Harry," he said and stabbed his toast to reinforce his sentiment. A blob of jam flew across the table. "You had sex. Can't you understand that I don't want you around him? I can't imagine he really wants to be your friend, anyway. He just wants to win you back."

"He's been a great friend, Ron," Harry said, petting the back of Ron's neck. "He's my best—"

"What?"

Right. Harry noted to himself that he could never, ever tell Ron that someone else was his best mate. Not even Hermione, but most certainly not Draco.

"He's a great guy. You'd like him. We could all be friends, if you'd just get to know him."

Ron shook his head. "I don't want to get to know him. I guess I can be grateful that he showed me what I was missing, but otherwise he's just a bastard. I don't want to be his friend and I don't want you to be his friend, either. Alright?" Ron took a bite of food and looked to his other side, apparently assuming all of that was settled and he'd see what Seamus was up to. Harry hit the table with his fist.

"No, Ron, it's not—"

"You don't want to hurt me, do you, Harry?"

Harry had nothing to say to that. No, of course he didn't want to hurt Ron. But he really didn't want to hurt Draco either. He told Ron that and Ron said, "Well then. Would you rather hurt him or me?"

Hermione, who had been avidly listening to this conversation along with most of the Gryffindor table, slapped Ron's arm and said, "Ron! That was awful. Don't make Harry _choose_!"

"I'm sorry Hermione, but I have to. I hate it, Harry. I hate him. It's him or me." Ron was pointing across the room to Draco at the Slytherin table. Harry's gaze followed Ron's finger and saw Draco watching them, his eyes wide and worried.

Harry realized, his stomach rapidly squeezing itself into a painful ball, that he was right to be worried. He looked at his untouched plate of food. There was nothing for him to say but, "Well, you of course. I'll—I'll tell him—"

"Now. Go tell him now."

Harry looked back at Draco who looked like he was going to be sick. "Now?"

"No time like the present."

"Nullus **tempus temporis** par**donum," Harry said absently and got up absently too, as if he couldn't help himself, as if his brain was detached, not watching it all happen, as he'd heard described before, but in a corner, squeezing its ears and eyes shut. **

Once he was standing behind Draco, he started to say, "So—"

"Don't," Draco said. "I already know. We're not friends. It was nothing, is nothing. Right."

His mind rushed back into his body just in time to stop his hand from touching Draco. But then he was forced to realize what he was doing. He was breaking all contact with Draco forever. He wanted to run away, wanted to go punch Ron who was now laughing across the silent Hall, wanted to take Draco in his arms and tell him he was wrong, but he couldn't make himself move. Then Draco started to cry and Harry started to tremble.

Crabbe gave quick, desperate looks between Harry and Draco, apparently trying to deceiver why Draco was upset and why Harry wasn't fixing it. Finally, it seemed, he understood and his gaze settled darkly on Harry. "You're going to go. And we are so not cool."

Harry looked around the Slytherins, who were all now glaring at him. One tear dripped down his face and then another. He started backing up. The Slytherins moved their glares to Ron then, or perhaps the Gryffindor table in general, and a few boys stood up. The next thing he knew he was running and then he was falling and then he was sitting against a wall, trying to breathe.

Arms came around him and he thought _did Draco..._ but it wasn't Draco, he realized right away, it was Ron. Harry still took the desperately needed comfort.

"You did the right thing, Harry."

Yes. This was still good. It had to be.

//

With Seamus, sitting around in their bedroom.

"Can I borrow a quill?"

"Sure. In the drawer in the bedside table."

"Thanks. What's this?"

"That's a handkerchief."

"I can see that, mate. You might wash it." But Harry couldn't wash it. If he did, it wouldn't smell like caramel corn any longer.

//

Harry and Ron were on Ron's bed together late one night a couple of weeks later. They'd just finished their first try at reciprocal blowjobs in the sixty-nine position (Harry did not think about any other sex he'd had this way or any other person or any other bed. He didn't.) Now they were talking quietly, relaxing against one another while Ron traced his finger over Harry's chest. This actually sort of tickled and, actually, Ron was not very good at blowjobs yet, but that was okay. They had their whole lives to perfect their techniques together.

"Ron," he said. "What made you finally decide to approach me?"

"Ginny. Absolutely Ginny. She badgered me all of Christmas holiday, 'What do you think of Harry and Draco?' 'Don't you like Harry anymore?' 'Why can't you keep a girlfriend?' 'You know you've been acting really jealous, actually.' It was ridiculous. Every spare moment. Mum was furious with her all the time, bringing it up." Ron laughed and kissed Harry's neck, very lightly. This tickled too. But, certainly Ron would learn to use a little force eventually.

Harry was a little disappointed in Ron's answer. He'd hoped—for something, but it didn't matter. Ginny had always been a clever girl, anyway. "How's your mum feel about this?"

"Oh she won't—what I mean is, she doesn't know. And I don't see that she really _has_ to. I mean, we'd have been living as roommates after Hogwarts, anyway—well, we would have been if it hadn't been for Malfoy, and so she wouldn't see anything—"

Harry pulled himself out of Ron's arms and sat up. "You won't come out to your mum is what you're saying."

"It seems a little unnecessary, that's all." When Harry turned and looked, Ron was pouting.

"Well, it is necessary, Ron. She's your mother and I want her blessing."

"But you won't get it! She won't—Dad won't, my brothers won't get the difference between little pansy faggot arse-fucking and what we—"

"Ron! There is no difference between little pansy faggots and us. We're all gay. We're all faggots. We are the gay community."

"Gay, sure, whatever. But we'll be monogamous, won't we? And queers can't do that—I'm certain Malfoy couldn't do that and we don't wear purple or pink or anything like those stupid shoes Malfoy—did you see them?" Ron gave a great snort and tried to pull Harry back down into his arms. Harry did his best to only glare at the curtains in front of him and not turn it to Ron. "There's a world of difference, Harry."

"Some boys love reading books and some boys love playing Quidditch, but they're still all boys."

"Whatever. The point is, Mum won't understand this and I'll never see my parents again."

"I won't live a lie," Harry said clearly. The irony kicked him in the head. Harry rubbed his eyes.

Ron was quiet for a long time, but he finally said, "Fine. I'll write them tomorrow. But understand that you're making me lose my family."

Harry grinned and jumped on top of Ron. "I'm sure you're overreacting. Tell them you want us to have tea with them at Hogsmeade on Saturday."

A twitch in Ron's eyebrow, but he smiled and pressed Harry close to him. "Are you excited for your first time?"

He could feel every muscle stiffen. "What?"

"Anal intercourse, Harry," Ron chuckled and ran his fingers, in that light, tickling way, down Harry's arse. "It's the next step. Mmm, being inside you... are you excited for your first time?"

Harry cleared his throat and then cleared it again. "Actually. Actually, Draco and I—"

This time he could feel every one of Ron's muscles stiffen. "What?"

"We—"

"You fucked. You fucked that little bastard?"

"Yes, I fucked him."

A deep breath and a slight relaxing throughout Ron's body. "Okay. That's not exactly the same thing."

No more lies. "He... he fucked me, as well." Harry kissed Ron's neck. "But I'm excited for my first time with you. Incredibly excited, of course."

"Did you use a condom or anything?" Ron took Harry's silence as affirmation. "So his cum was inside you. His cock was inside you and he came right inside you." Despite the incredible anger in Ron's voice, Harry could feel himself getting hard at the memories, arousal prickling at his fingertips. "Harry! Fuck!"

Ron pushed Harry off him and nearly off the bed. "Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Just go to bed. I need some time to think about this."

Nodding, Harry left Ron's bed and slipped into his own. On his back, he could see his cock standing hard and proud. There was nothing to do but wank and there was nothing to think about, it seemed, but Draco moving fast inside of him. He came in a rush and then his body relaxed and then... nothing. Harry felt nothing.

//

Walking to the Great Hall with Hermione.

"You smell nice today."

"Very nice."

"Seamus! Thanks, Harry. Draco made me a perfume."

//

At breakfast, he and Ron weren't talking. Lavender nudged him and gave a great fluttering series of movements suggesting that he should go to Draco and either kiss him or give him... fellatio publicus. Harry tried to ignore her but the idea of sucking Draco off in front of the whole school was stuck in his mind and kept him hard all day.

The owls came and Pig dropped a letter in Ron's oatmeal. Ron would have caught it, was going to catch it, but Colin shoved him while he was walking to his seat. Lots of people were shoving Ron these days, and glaring at him and playing tricks on him and sending sad, pitying looks at Harry.

Hermione explained to him that the entire school loved Harry and Draco and their relationship. Everyone saw Ron as the evil demon that possessed Harry and tore him away from his one true love and, if Harry would only pay attention, he'd hear that at any given moment, someone, somewhere in the school was plotting to get the couple back together.

"It's from my mum," Ron said, staring at the letter. "She says okay to tea on Saturday."

Harry smiled. "That's great, Ron." He went to hug him, but stopped himself in the last second. Ron just stared at him for a minute, but soon his face broke into a smile and he nodded and took Harry's hand.

"Agh," said one student and, "Bah!" said another.

//

Sitting next to Neville in Herbology.

"That's a nice necklace, Harry."

"Thanks. It was a Christmas present from—Draco. Yeah. It is nice. He has—very good taste, you know."

"Do you know you never take it off? You're getting a little tan line on your down your neck." Harry fiddled with the pendent at the end of the long silver chain. He should take it off, but his hands won't move.

//

It was obvious at tea that Saturday that Ron had not lost his family. Mrs Weasley said very clearly that she and Mr Weasley and all the Weasley children would support Ron until the day he died. It was also obvious, though, that Harry had not gained a family.

Both Weasley parents were incredibly civil throughout their hour-long tea party, but as everyone prepared to leave and Ron went to the toilet, Harry found himself cornered. "Harry, understand that we do not approve of this," said Mr Weasley.

"No, not at all," said Mrs Weasley. "We only approve of Ron."

"Right. Ron. We do not like that you've perverted our son and we'll do everything in our power to set him right again."

"However, we'll do nothing to you, so not to worry there, dear. You're not worth the trouble."

"So, just enjoy him while you can."

"Arthur!" Suddenly both Mr and Mrs Weasley were blushing and Harry was trying not to laugh.

"Er—right. Enjoy his company is what I meant. His conversation, you sick—"

"Good, then. Goodbye, Harry." Ron came around the corner from the toilet. Hugs and kisses all around and Harry and Ron were walking towards Honeydukes.

Harry wanted to be upset – and he was in a way – but both Weasley parents were so very much like cookies, that it was hard to be afraid. Oh well. There were hurdles to jump in every relationship.

As they walked into the sweetshop, they passed Draco and Blaise Zabini on their way out. Draco and Blaise started dating a few days after the Messy Brake-Up Scene. It had been nearly three weeks now, but Harry still wanted to pull Blaise's hair out whenever he saw them together. And he still wanted to pull Draco's clothes off whenever... he was breathing, it seemed. Maybe it would get better once they all left Hogwarts and Harry didn't have to see him every day.

"Hello, Ron," Blaise said. "Hello, Harry. Pleasant day for January, isn't it?"

Ron tightened his hold on Harry's hand. "Zabini."

"Hello... Blaise. Yes. It—it is." He looked at Draco and opened his mouth but had nothing to say. God, Draco looked good. He'd lost weight and his face looked a little hollowed—had he not been sleeping? Was fucking Zabini keeping him up at night? Or... nightmares. Maybe he was having nightmares—but he was still as pale and beautiful as ever.

"Well—" Blaise was cut off as suddenly someone rammed into Draco, making him pitch forward. Harry rushed towards him and caught him before he tripped on the stairs.

"What the hell!" he shouted. "No one move!" He sat down on a step and manoeuvred Draco into his lap. "Are you all right?"

Draco nodded and then his arms were around Harry's neck and Harry's arms were around his waist and they were almost, _almost_ kissing. Then reality came crashing back. Faster than he'd had any idea he could move, Harry had them both standing up and three feet away from one another.

He cleared his throat. "Who's the clumsy git?"

Wayne Hopkins raised his thin arm and laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry. Didn't, er... look where I was going."

Of course. Of course it was an accident. Harry took a deep breath. "Er. Right. Just—don't let it happen again."

Wayne's hand came in front of his mouth. "I'll be on alert for Draco Malfoy in front of me."

Blaise wrapped his arms around Draco and they shuffled off together. As he moved back to Ron, Harry felt sure that Blaise had no idea how to take care of him. "We'll get some chocolate now, yeah?"

Ron nodded, but looked decidedly annoyed. They walked into the store. "You run to save everyone who's not your friend?"

Harry squinted at him. "Yeah, actually. Saviour of the wizarding world, don't forget. Sweet boys who popped my cherry and all."

Oh fuck. Of all the things to say. A vision of Snape came into his head and said, "Potter, no sex for a week."

//

Sitting with Ginny and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room.

"This is so pretty. What's McGonagall playing in here?"

"It's a violin sonata by Brahms."

"Good for you for taking an interest in Classical music, Harry. Isn't it fascinating?"

"Actually, er. It's Draco's favourite sonata, that's all."

"Oh. Sorry—"

"That's so _sweet_, Harry!" Hermione shushes Ginny, but they're both smiling at him like he's a puppy.

//

Harry flicked a piece of beef into the air and then tried to hit it into his pumpkin juice. He'd been successful four out of eighty million tries and he was determined to make it a once more before he left the Great Hall.

"Harry," said Hermione. "You know that's disgusting. Have you actually put any of the stew in your mouth?"

Harry shrugged.

"You know, when you were with Draco you always ate ravenously." Ron sent a glare in their direction, but Harry ignored him. They weren't talking again, sitting quite far away from each other – Ron had punished him like this at least once a week the three months they'd been dating. Perhaps it would happen for the next sixty years. Flick, hit, miss again.

Hermione leaned in close to him and pressed her hand over his, stopping another flick attempt. "Harry. Why are you doing this?"

Pushing her away from him with his shoulder, Harry said, "God, I'm sorry, Hermione, okay? Just one more try at getting five and I'll get more stew and eat it."

Much stronger than he'd ever given her credit for, Hermione shoved him back. "Not that. Why did you break up with Draco? Why are you dating Ron?"

"I've been in love with Ron for six years, Hermione," he said and rubbed his eyes. "I only dated Draco because I thought this could never happen."

"Maybe you were in love with Ron for six years... but you're in love with Draco now." Hermione's voice was soft. "You're unhappy. You are not happy with Ron."

A round of equally soft, "Yeah," came from the people around him. Harry looked up and saw that most of the Gryffindors were staring at him with those sad looks, some others sending that look to Draco. Ron laughed, shaking Harry out of the quiet.

"That's—silly, Hermione. I'm not in love with Draco. I'm very happy. Of course I am. I've wanted this and I've been waiting for this..."

"Change happens. You wanted it, you waited for it, and now you want something else. You are in love with Draco. It's okay."

"It's great!" said Colin. More affirmation from the people around him. What was wrong with everybody? He'd destroyed Voldemort, he won all their Quidditch games, he made idiotic mistakes during classes for comic relief—why couldn't they just give up this thing with Draco and let him be happy with Ron. Harry wasn't in love with Draco!

He only... liked him a lot. And thought about him all the time, but that was normal because he could never spend any time with him. You think about people you miss. And yeah, he was attracted to him. But Draco said it that first night in the Prefect's bathroom. Draco was an attractive guy and Harry was gay. It was just logical. Well. Maybe he was a little bit more attracted to Draco than most other boys. But he'd come to understand Draco's beauty so well... every little nuance of his body... that was really just logical, too.

"That's exactly it, Harry." Oh, had he said all that out loud? This fight with Ron had really fucked him up. "You like him more than anyone else. You miss him like crazy. And you're hot for him all the time. This has all developed because you've spent so much time with him. Because you fell in love with him. That's what being in love is."

Harry looked to the Slytherin table and found Draco instantly. He felt a smile he couldn't control and then worry, for the fifth or sixth time that day, that Draco still wasn't sleeping and now you could really see it in his face. Harry wanted to give him the blowjob of his life and then tuck him into his arms and make sure he slept through the night.

He wanted to do that every night.

Well. Maybe he was in love with Draco. A little.

//

"Ron. We need to talk."

Harry really didn't want to have this conversation. He needed to have this conversation and he wanted the result of this conversation, but every tensed muscle desperately wished that he could just fast forward through the actual talking to Ron. It already moaned of painful cliché and he was going to hurt his best friend and he assumed Ron was going to be mean. It was destined to be a horrible five minutes.

Ron stared at him black faced for a moment, then frowned and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Dinner had just begun, but Harry was too nervous to eat again, like at lunch and breakfast, and when he'd arrived to see Ron absent, he went back to the common room. And there Ron was, alone in the dark. Harry sat down next to him on the couch, right up against the edge to keep a good half a metre between them. Ron stared at the space. Harry cleared his throat. "The thing is... I've loved you for a long time—I still love you! But... I've fallen in love with Draco."

Wincing, Ron looked away and rubbed his eyebrow. "Yeah, I knew."

His mouth fell open and he spluttered, "You knew! How did you know?"

"Well, I looked at you, Harry." Ron laughed and pat Harry's knee. "I could tell—everyone could tell since back in November."

Did Ron have any idea how much pain he could have saved Harry if he'd just _told_ him back in November? And how much more sex he could have been having these past three months? "Then why did—"

"Well, see, I knew you loved me too. I mean, I've known that since fourth year, I think. And I loved you too, but I figured if we ignored it we'd get over it. That maybe that was just part of the experimentation that boys do. Then you and Malfoy... I realized that I'd loose you. You'd get over it and I never would, that there was something more to it all. So I pulled you back. Tried to, anyway, but it was too late. Anyway, consider us broken up, okay?"

Genuine love for Ron and appreciation that they were friends welled up in Harry. That really hadn't happened since—long before they started dating. It was a good omen that this was the exact right thing to do that it would happen again now that they were breaking up. He grabbed Ron's hand.

"You're still my best mate, you know. And you're a great guy—"

"Oh, I've been an awful boyfriend." They laughed together, something that hadn't happened in a really long time too. "Just doing everything I could to keep you away from Malfoy. I'm really sorry." Harry grinned. It was incredibly satisfying just to hear an apology from Ron.

"You'll find someone else and you'll be really happy with him."

"Bloody—I'm gay, aren't I? Gay. It was easier when I was just in love with you. It seemed... more normal, more dignified."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, Ron. It's perfectly natural. Draco says that wizards are actually predisposed to bisexuality."

Ron snorted and shook his head. "I guess half the seventh year boys are going for the other boys, aren't they? But try telling that to my mum and dad. It was so easy to let them blame you. I didn't have to take any of the blame."

"You knew they'd do that?"

"Of course they would. What could be wrong with their family?"

Maybe because he'd been so prepared that the Weasleys would reject him for this, he'd been sort of numb to their total volte-face of sentiment. It was only now that he really felt how much he missed feeling a part of the Weasley family. "I always thought I was sort of the family, too."

"Oh, you are, Harry!" Ron gave him a hard hug. "You're my family, anyway. And Mum and Dad will remember that, too, if I have to make them."

Harry laughed giddily. How wonderful it was to have Ron on his side again. "Oh, you really were a crap boyfriend, Ron Weasley."

"Yeah. Is Malfoy a good boyfriend?"

Actual butterflies in his stomach and another uncontrollable smile. How had he not noticed how fucking in love with Draco he was? "He's a lovely boyfriend. He's a lovely person. Ron, you'll really like him!"

"Yeah," he said and his face got pensive. "Well, one day. After I meet that guy. Oh shit. Guy. I'm gay."

A little green, Ron threw his head against the back of the couch. Harry just smiled and let him think about that for a while. But that let Harry think too and of course he thought about Draco and thus he had an epiphany. "Oh god! Do you think Draco will take me back? He's been dating Blaise all this time—oh god! Was he ever actually in love with me? We never said that. Maybe I was just a—"

Ron laughed hugely, loudly, right from the stomach and gave Harry's shoulder a little squeeze. "Not to worry Harry. He looks heartbroken all the time. And poor Zabini is desperately in love with Neville, anyway. There's no way anything serious happened there. Malfoy's not eating, he's not sleeping and it all happened after you two broke up and that can't just be coincidence. He's in love with you. Why wouldn't he be? You'll get him back."

Once again, Harry was struck at how new and fantastic a nice Ron was to have around. "Thanks, Ron. God, you were a crap boyfriend."

"Oh, go get bloody perfect Malfoy back, then." Ron kicked him, grinning. "I need some time to feel sorry for myself and I can't just cry in front of everybody like you."

"Shut up." Harry made his way to the door feeling better about himself and his life than he had... ever, maybe. He looked back at Ron and winced at how desolate the other boy looked sitting there. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his face half way buried in them. "Ron. Are—are you going to be okay?"

A deep breath and, "Yes. Hey, maybe Zabini will drown his sorrows over Neville in me now."


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

All the way to the Slytherin dormitory, Harry was practically skipping he was so excited. It was only when he reached the wall that Harry started to get nervous, but by the time he was standing in front of the door into Draco's bedroom, he felt like he might throw up. He shook out his body, inhaled deeply and knocked on the door, only a courtesy because Draco was certain to be at dinner. But then there was a muffled, positive response from within – was Draco skipping meals entirely now? – and Harry walked inside.

Draco was at his wardrobe with his back to him. And he was changing. Bloody perfect.

He coughed. "Hey, Draco."

Draco came up from being bent over, all the muscles in his back tight. "Oh, are you allowed to talk to me now?" Harry winced. He deserved that.

"I—er." Harry considered asking how Draco was or something about the weather, but it all seemed too stupid now. "Ron and I have broken up."

With an open, concerned look on his face, Draco rushed to face him. "Oh, Harry, I'm so—" Draco frowned and then his expression smoothed out, unreadable except for one raised eyebrow. "What did you do?"

"What did I—?"

"Well, he must have broken it off because you never would have. He's your one true love, right?" Draco gave a sharp little smirk and went back to his mirror, unbuttoning a white sweater that hung across the glass.

Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose, pulled down his sleeves, wished there was something else for him to fiddle with. "No, er, actually, I broke up with him."

"You... what are you doing here?" Draco's voice was quiet and annoyed. He pulled the sweater down and the hanger clacked loudly.

"Well, see, I broke up with him cause I realized that I'm not in love with him." Harry swallowed a few times, resisted coughing again. "I'm in love with you." Silence followed. Draco stood perfectly still for a few seconds and then whirled around.

"You're in love with me. So you just come back? Thinking I'll be waiting, just sitting and pining, hoping you'll come rushing through that door in shining armour, here to save me from my abysmal—just disregarding that I'm _dating Blaise_, disregarding that you were a complete ass, a little pussy that _listened_ to him when we said we couldn't be friends, disregarding—fuck, that we never meant anything to one another to begin with. Or you never meant anything to me. We had good sex. And a good friendship which you fucked up."

Harry's back was against the wall. Although Draco had barely moved, Harry felt as if he'd been thrown across the room. It seemed that he had to say something, but all that could come out was a pitiful, "So—you don't love me?"

Draco smiled. "Is that so hard to believe, boy wonder?"

Shaking his head, closing his eyes against the stinging air, he said, "Well, no, I—I thought—you're not eating, though. Not sleeping and—"

"Blaise does keep me up at night. And you know, I told you. Blaise is in love with Neville. Makes one disinclined to behave normally when the person one loves doesn't love one back. Even when that person isn't _you_."

"You're in love with Blaise." As shocked as Harry was, he felt like it fit in a way. Little things that were said, Draco's snogging Blaise that night before the holiday, things that Harry must have understood the way he wanted them to be.

"Yes, I'm in love with Blaise." Draco buttoned the sweater and wandered to his dresser, looked through his sock drawer. "Go back to Ron, Harry, I'm sure—hell, you're just obsessed with what you can't have, aren't you? A little love complex." Draco slammed the drawer closed. "Spend your entire life in love with Ron, finally get him and whoops you're in love with Draco. Don't know how to be happy, do you?"

"I guess I don't." He laughed a little.

Draco stared at him, frowning again, then rolled his eyes away. "Well, yes, go back to Ron. I'm sure hell have you and then you can find an unavailable someone else and pine over him."

"God, Draco! I'm not going back to Ron—I'm not in love with Ron! I'm going to... I don't know what I'm going to do. Wish for you for the rest of my life, I suppose. No need to switch obsessions when I still don't have you, right? I'm sorry I bothered you."

Harry reached into his shirt and found the pendent around his neck. For a moment, he thought about tearing off the chain and throwing it at Draco or at least coolly asking if he wanted it back, but he realized that he still didn't want to let it go.

//

It was a slow, numb walk back to Gryffindor, but his emotions exploded once he was back in the common room. He threw himself on to a chair. "He doesn't want me!"

"What happened?" Oh hell, this was sickeningly similar to what used to happen with Draco over Ron. Maybe he was obsessed with what he couldn't have. Maybe this was a kind of emotional self-mutilation because of the scars left from fighting Voldemort. Maybe he was doomed to a life alone desperately wishing for what he couldn't have.

He rubbed his hands over his face. As Harry started to speak, he realized that there was no way to explain what happened without explaining their plan for Harry to nab Ron and suddenly it all spilled out.

"Well, that's—yeah, that's the most screwed up thing I've ever heard."

"I know," Harry groaned. "It was so stupid."

Ran laughed and threw a pillow at him. "Well, obviously he did it because he's in love with you, Harry. He was in love with you from the beginning and he figured that was the only way to be with you."

Sitting up, Harry threw the pillow back. What was wrong with Ron? _Obviously_ Harry was a selfish bastard and had misinterpreted everything and Draco only felt some residual anger towards Harry and fucking _love_ for Blaise.

"No!" he shouted. "I told you, he said he's in love with Blaise." Then suddenly he was sobbing, gasping for breath, coughing, screaming into his arms.

"He only said that because he was mad at you for saying you couldn't be friends." Ron was sitting on the arm rest of Harry's chair now, rubbing his back. He handed him a tissue. _Everyone_ but him had something to wipe your nose with. He blew into it with a disgusting wet nose. Ron took the sopping paper and handed him another. Harry leaned into Ron's knee.

"Which he has every right to be." Harry hiccupped. "I can't believe I listened to you. I'm such a fuck."

"No, Harry, I made it impossible for you to say no."

"That's no excuse. I'm in control of my own actions. If I was just a little more self-actualized, maybe I would have realized I was in love with Draco and said no to you and told him I loved him in the first place. Not that it would have done any good because he's not in love with me." Fresh tears and Harry roughly wiped them away. He held the tissue out to Ron and wrung the next in his hands. "It would have been the same pathetic three months, just with less sex."

"It wasn't even very good sex. Well, I hope." They laughed.

"No, it wasn't. I promise. My heart wasn't really in it, sorry. Fuck, my heart's in him! Why doesn't he love me?"

Ron took him by the shoulders and shook him. "He does!"

"He does not! Stop saying that. He was so angry."

"That's just it! Someone with no feelings for you wouldn't have been so upset that you broke off the friendship like you did."

"That's not true." Harry stood up and moved to another chair, kicking his knee forward. The resulting pain felt sort of good, like a relief from the pain inside. "I would be angry if Hermione told me we couldn't be friends because her boyfriend said so. So would you. He admitted that we had a good friendship. He cared for me like that and that's why he was angry."

"No, Harry. A friend of yours that would go through with that fucked up little scheme just so you could be with me would understand that you would do anything to stay with me."

For a moment, Harry let himself believe that Ron might be right, but images of Draco's cold, angry face pushed that thought away. "I—I'm so confused. Besides, how do you know? It's not like there's a little emotions pocket reference you could check, is there? Anyway, Draco's a very complicated person. The book might not even apply to his—I've really cocked this up completely, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. You both have."

"What am I going to do?" Harry looked hopefully at Ron, although he didn't know what he could say. Ron seemed to be concentrated, however. Maybe he'd come up with something brilliant.

"Well. Woo him, I say. Even if he isn't in love with you now – which he is, of course – I'm sure he'll fall in love with you if you do your wooing right."

"Woo?"

"Yes, Harry. Woo. Courtship." Ron's hands fluttered around his head, a ridiculous attempt to embody romance.

"But how do I woo him?"

"Oh no. Me giving you any more advice is just starting another sick plan. It's not going to happen."

"Right." Harry fell back down on to the chair. The last tissue from Ron was shredded in his hands. "I'll just come up with a brilliant yet straightforward plan all by myself."

"And I'll go fly for a bit. Perhaps _accidentally _fall off my broom and to my untimely death. Oh, stop pouting please."

Harry wiped at his mouth and did his best to smile. "Thanks for being here, Ron."

"Don't worry about it. You'll make it up to me. Just wait until I meet someone new and I throw all my sad love trials at you."

Ron walked to the door and tossed the tissues into the bin there. It struck Harry that the most intimate thing they'd ever done was Ron holding his gross snotty tissues and throwing them away for him. Well, he figured, even if Draco hated him forever, Harry had his best friend back. But he didn't _want_ Draco to hate him forever! He moaned and fell forward. Ron sent him a sympathetic smile and the portrait closed behind him with a thud.

Harry sat for ten minutes trying to think about courting Draco, but images of grandiose bouquets of roses, red boxes of chocolate, bad poetry read on one knee, embarrassing declarations made in too-public places were all he could come up with. It all seemed too stupid, too affected to be anything meaningful. People started coming into the common room, back from dinner. Soon he was too antsy to sit still and even pacing all the way up and back down the tower was making him feel confined. He was getting hungry now too, so Harry thought a trip to the kitchens might be a good idea.

The halls felt quiet and damp. Harry walked slowly, jumbled thoughts of Draco, kissing Blaise, kissing Harry, laughing, sleeping rushing through his mind. His feelings moving from anguish to elation.

Something broke through his thoughts and Harry stopped walking. It was crying. Someone was crying... just ahead of him. Harry looked around and realized that to his right hung the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the crying was coming from their room.

Harry took two frantic steps forward, his first instinct to get to Draco as quickly as possible, but he stopped himself. He couldn't just go barging into the room with his arms open. It wasn't his place anymore. Maybe he could go find Blaise... no, absolutely not. Harry tiptoed to the door and leaned against the wall next to it. He let himself slip down to the floor, pulled his knees to his chest and listened. He couldn't believe he was so pathetic that just being this close to Draco was making him feel more calm and normal than he had in months.

"Why—" he heard hiccupped from the room. "Why now? Blaise—"

Harry pressed his hand against the door, closed his eyes to let his own tears fall.

"I could have loved Blaise. Could have loved _someone else _if you'd just—"

Harry gasped and covered his mouth with both hands. Draco was crying over him. Draco was... could have loved Blaise... didn't love Blaise. Harry stood up and grabbed the doorknob. No. Even if Draco did love him – Harry grinned almost hysterically – it still wasn't right to rush in and hold him like nothing had happened. Oh, but he sounded so miserable, like he could barely breathe.

How had Harry done this to him? He hated himself. Maybe it would be better for Draco if he just left him alone forever, never hurt him again.

Harry didn't know if he could do that, but he took the first step away from the door and hurried down to the kitchens.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby said the moment Harry walked through the door. "Dobby is so happy to see you!"

"Hello, Dobby," he said. "What was for dinner tonight?"

"Cornish pasties tonight. Harry Potter wants some?"

"And some of those potatoes and a glass of pumpkin juice and a custard tart. Thanks, Dobby."

The house-elf went about filling a plate for him and Harry sat down on a stool to wait. He looked around the kitchens and then a dark, thick pastry caught his eye. "Is that a canelé?" Dobby nodded. "That's Draco's favourite."

"That _is_ Master Draco's favourite dessert," said Dobby.

"Can I have it too? On another plate?"

"Of course Harry Potter can."

"Actually, forget about the potatoes. I'll just grab the pasty." Harry had work to do. He put the pasty in his mouth, took the proffered canelé and plate and hurried out of the kitchens, toward Gryffindor tower.

"Hermione!" he shouted, dashing into the common room. "Do you know anything about the meanings of flowers?"

"Well, no, not—"

"I do, Harry," said Neville.

"Oh, Neville!" Harry said. "Is there a flower that means... love or... devotion or—"

Neville took him by the shoulders and pressed him down into a chair. "You need to take a deep breath and finish your dinner before you choke on it." Harry growled at him, but Neville only laughed. "Forget-me-nots mean true love." Harry made an appreciative noise. "And hyacinths are the flower of apology, if that sounds good too."

Blushing furiously, Harry asked, "Do they grow here?" through a bite of food.

"They're both out by the greenhouse. Come on, I'll help you find them." Harry led the way in a run and then Neville picked a handful of forget-me-nots and one stock of hyacinths. As Harry started to arrange the flowers around the canelé, Neville said, "This is a really good idea, Harry. I'm sure Draco will love it."

Harry grinned and bounced a few times. "And I think forget-me-nots and hyacinths smell really nice together."

Neville left and once Harry had the flowers the way he wanted them, he walked back up to their room. A few feet from the room, he whispered a heating charm over the pastry and then pushed the door open as quietly as possible.

The sun was setting. Pale pink and orange light flooded the room. Draco was asleep, curled up on one of the chairs. Harry set the plate on the table next to the couch, then went to a little table with a few sheets of parchment, a broken quill, and a well of purple ink. He wrote the first thing that came to mind (_figured you might be hungry_) and watched Draco for a few minutes, his hands aching to touch his hair, to kiss him, to hold him.

"I love you," he whispered and felt a kind of warmth rush through him. It was so wonderful to say it. "I love you. And I'm going to make you really happy."

Harry bent and kissed Draco's hand and then slipped out of the room before he totally woke up.

Writing his potions essay went quickly and accurately and he slept well all through the night.

When he opened his eyes in the morning, there was a rose on his pillow. He gasped. "Neville! Are you awake?"

A groan. "What? Yes, I guess. It's Saturday, Harry, why—"

"What does a pink rose mean?" Harry ran his fingers up and down the stem, dropped it on to his chest when he remembered roses came with thorns, and then picked up again delightedly because the thorns were enchanted into rubber.

"What colour pink?"

"Light pink! Oh, it's perfect. The most perfect rose." Harry stoked the petals, brought the flower to his nose.

Neville pulled open his curtains and smiled at him. "A light pink rose stands for appreciation. And happiness."

Giggles burst out from inside him and he wiggled in his blankets. "I'm going to make him so happy!" he shrieked.

//

Draco was leaning next to the Fat Lady when Harry left his dormitory for breakfast. He jerked forward to touch him, but he stopped himself and ended up standing too close and tugging on his shirt. It was made out of some kind of stretchy fabric and it clung to his body, short enough that an inch of Harry's tummy was exposed. Harry was really uncomfortable wearing it, but Draco had been really excited about it when they'd seen it in the store; that's why he'd bought it and that's why he was wearing it now.

"Hi, Draco," he said.

"You look good," Draco breathed, standing up straight. Harry grinned. Draco looked good too, in a white cotton shirt, soft if it was the one Harry thought it was, unbuttoned past his pecs and a long silver chain around his neck. Draco coughed. "Er. But you've made us very late to breakfast. Might as well skip it and find something to eat at Hogsmeade."

"We're going to Hogsmeade together?" Harry was bouncing again and his body was making a great effort to touch Draco again.

"If you want to." Harry nodded empathetically and Draco gave a little smile. "But, Harry, look it, I—I don't want you to think I'm just taking you back the moment you're available again. I... I'd like us to take it a little bit slow, a little bit... old fashioned. The food and flowers was incredibly sweet and it—it rather won me over, obviously. I'm quite easy. But there's more to—to a real—relationship and I just want to see how you handle it. How we both handle it. I'm all new to this, too."

"What's happened to Blaise?"

"I broke up with him. He was relieved, I think. Do you—do you supposed Neville might be interested in him at all?"

"He's never said anything. But I doubt very much Nev would turn down a date."

"Yes, well, I suppose not every relationship can start with deep, everlasting love."

"No. But they can lead to that." Harry watched as the most radiant smile he'd ever seen lit up Draco's face. "Is it going too fast to kiss you right now?"

Draco stepped forward and for some strange reason, Harry stepped back until he was pressed between the wall and Draco's body. Ah—Harry felt Draco's cock, hard and hot against his thigh—maybe that was the reason. Draco ran the tip of his nose down Harry's and across his cheek. Harry licked the skin closest to his mouth until his tongue reached Draco's lips. Then Draco's mouth was open on Harry's and it was wet sweetness perfection. Draco eventually pulled away gasping, "No, this isn't too fast."

"You taste like caramel."

"I've been ravenous ever since that canelé. I almost finished off Mum's last care package getting ready this morning." Harry's entire focus suddenly went to Draco's mouth and he ran his tongue across Draco's bottom lip. Draco whimpered. So did Harry.

"Well, good. You're too skinny." They smiled, Draco so close and so warm and so content and Harry felt the sting of tears. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and squeezed him. "I missed you so much. I'm so sorry I hurt us."

Draco pressed kisses into his neck. "I stared at my ceiling at night, berating myself for starting it and then I'd feel awful because you were happy and that was the point. I felt mad because we were never meant to end up together, no mater how much I'd wanted it—"

Pulling back a little to look Draco in the eye, Harry whispered, "Did you... want it from the start?"

"Wanted you, yes, and for more than some footsie in the Prefect's bathroom, but I didn't have any idea of—what I want now." Draco looked down and bit his lip.

"What do you want now?" Harry tried to angle his face so Draco would look at him again. "Do you want to know what I want? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to buy a house and have a garden and drink wine in the grass and have a dog. A black lab."

A slow smile spread across Draco's face. "Do you know Mum kept black labs for the longest time. They were gone when I came home after fifth year. I'd like to have a dog again. I want us to grow jasmine."

"I want poppies." Another kiss.

"I want tall ceilings." Another and Draco stepped a little away from Harry and took both his hands in his. "We should go to breakfast anyway and invite Neville and Blaise to go to Hogsmeade with us."

Harry agreed and they went to the Great Hall to find the other boys. Neville stared at him blankly in response, then flushed and looked away. "No. No, I can't, Harry. I'd be too embarrassed."

"Why would be embarrassed?"

A half eaten scone was crumbled into little pieces in Neville's hands. "There was a rumour floating around that Blaise, er—liked me. Do you know what I mean by—yes, I'm sure you do. And so I smiled at him a bit in the halls and tried to sit closer to him during History than usual, just little things, and suddenly he never looks at me and he starts dating Malfoy! It was awful. I couldn't believe I'd gotten it so wrong. No, I can't just go to Hogsmeade with him as if nothing happened."

Harry laughed. "But he does_ like _you, Nev!"

Neville's face lit up, but then he frowned and shook his head. "That's perfectly ridiculous."

"Why? How is that ridiculous at all?"

"Harry! He—look at him. He's beautiful and I—yeah, I've done the best with what I have, but—"

"_That's_ ridiculous. You're very sexy."

"And you're a good friend, but—"

"I am not! I mean, I—thank you, but you're still an attractive guy. I'm sure his odd behaviour was just because he does like you so much. Just come to Hogsmeade, will you? I promise a good time."

An incredible scoff came from Neville. "You say that now but one look at Draco's ears getting pink and you're going to forget all about me and I'll have to stand there with Blaise pretending it's not awkward that you two are making out in the middle of the road."

Across the room, Draco was sitting on the table talking to Blaise and Harry smiled. Draco's ears did get pink when it was chilly and there had been three days of grey, snow-expectant sky. The air would smell fresh today. Draco's mouth would be especially warm.

"Harry!"

"I don't get distracted by Draco all that much, Neville."

"Hah! You're stupid."

Harry kicked Neville at the shin. "Shut up. Come to Hogsmeade."

"No."

"Yes."

Harry had to keep this going for quite some time until Neville finally shrieked his consent, flinging his hands in the air and scone crumbs everywhere. Neville pushed his chair away from the table with a great squeak. "I have to wash my hands."

"Meet you by the door!" Harry called after him.

Harry went over to Draco who was still on the table, picking at the potatoes on the plate in front of Blaise's empty chair. He smiled when Harry came near and used his feet to pull Harry between his legs, hooking his ankles on top of Harry's arse. He accepted a piece of potato from Draco, licking his fingertips, and laid his head on Draco's chest. "Thank you for taking me back."

Fingers ran through his hair and massaged his neck. "Thank you for wanting me back."

"Thank you for letting me be with Ron if I wanted that."

There was an explosion of disgusting wet coughing. Harry turned and looked and there was Pansy Parkinson, glaring from behind her hand. "Oy! Eating, you know. Breakfast: eggs, marmalade. You might go into a cupboard like normal people."

Astoria Greengrass elbowed Pansy very forcefully in the arm. "Don't listen to her. She's just jealous. It's so nice, your being back together."

Looking around the Great Hall, it seemed that almost everyone was looking towards them, smiling and nodding. Oh, this obsession the whole school had with them was a lot weirder now than it had been when Harry didn't know he was in love with Draco. Draco's body came closer to him and Harry realized he was tightening his embrace. Draco laughed and kissed his cheek. "Let's go wait by the door."

//

It seemed that the trip to Hogsmeade would be a disaster.

Well. Not a disaster. Harry still got to spend the day with Draco in the cold air and fresh flowers, but their plan to get Blaise and Neville together wasn't working at all. As they walked to the village, Neville stayed obstinately to Harry's left, Blaise to Draco's right. A few times he and Draco tried slowing down or speeding up unexpectedly, but the other boys just shuffled right back into their previous positions.

At the Three Broomsticks for supper, they got a table for four and very awkwardly forced Neville and Blaise to sit next to one another. Before even ordering drinks, though, Harry thought perhaps this was a bad idea. In these positions, they didn't have to look at one another and could each very easily monopolize the poor bloke sitting in front of him instead of letting newly-back together couples enjoy some time together. They should have gone to Madame Puddifoot's, pink confetti and all – at least they would have been sitting two-and-two.

And then, as it was wont to do, tea saved the day.

They ordered a pot at the end of the meal and Blaise offered to pour for everyone. He was distracted, arguing with Draco about Quidditch and, apparently instinctually, fixed Neville's glass with enough milk to make the drink cold, Harry was sure, and five spoonfuls of sugar.

"You do like me!" Neville gasped and Blaise stopped mid-sentence to look at him.

"What?"

"You know how I take my tea."

Blaise busied himself fixing his own teacup. "Yes, well—it's not exactly a weird way to take tea, is it?"

Except it was. "Yes, it is. I've given up loads of sweets, but I can't help myself with tea—and you know that."

Looking up at Neville from under his eyelashes, Blaise smiled. Harry's breath caught. "I suppose I do."

"You like me."

"I—yes. Do—er, that is—do you like—" But Neville didn't let him finish, just bent down and swooped in, kissing Blaise, quick and open-mouthed.

Draco leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. "Finally. I imagine they're both very pink."

"Yes!" Harry wouldn't let the question slip away from him again. "What does that mean?"

"It means in love. And content." This went straight to Harry's cock. He fixed his head in the curve of Draco's neck and kissed him on the collarbone.

"And are you pink right now?"

"I'm sure I am, thank god. I didn't know how I was going to explain my parents at spring holidays. I must have been horribly gray."

"I think I'm pink, too. Because I'm in love with you. And you make me very—content." Harry rubbed Draco's thigh, as close to his gorgeous, big cock that he hadn't seen in _months_ as public decency would allow him.

"Is that a euphemism, Harry Potter?"

"Maybe—want to go be content in the bathroom?"

And they did.


End file.
